Phantom Leap
by luverofsong
Summary: This story is crossover of The Phantom of the Opera and Quantum Leap. Those who haven't seen the latter may find parts a little confusing, but will most likely get the gist. There is something for everyone, whether you like Quantum Leap or POTO. Fanfic
1. Chapter 1

**The Phantom Leap**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera or its characters.**

**Author's Note: This story is based off a combination of Webber's play/movie and Leroux's novel. I enjoy both so I couldn't resist combining them. I love the show Quantum Leap, so I thought it would make an interesting story if Sam leaped into the infamous Opera Ghost. That is when the idea of Phantom Leap was born. I made the time period that of the 1890s. That actually coincides with that of secular history better. The Opera House was finished being built in 1875, and I wanted it to have been around for a while. **

**I like to think the characters look like the ones from the 2004 movie, except the Phantom's deformity is worse. I am not touching the body, I just can't bring myself to mess with that, sorry devoted Leroux fans. But, his face will look much worse than it did in the film, sorry Gerik fans. Well, I guess in a way you both win. Also, the ages of the characters will be younger than Leroux's (with the exception of Raoul) but, older than the film's. Now, without further ado. **

**Intro**

_Theorizing that one can time travel within his own lifetime, Dr Sam Beckett stepped into the Quantum Leap excelerator and vanished. He awoke to find himself trapped in the past, facing mirror images that were not his own, and driven by an unknown force to change history for the better. His only guide on this journey is Al, an observer from his own time, who appears in the form of a hologram that only Sam can see and hear. And so, Dr Beckett finds himself leaping from life to life. Striving to put right what once went wrong, and hoping each time that his next leap, will be the leap home..._

Dr. Samuel Beckett looked around, still dizzy from the leap. He saw that he was in some sort of dark, underground room. There were lighted candles everywhere, some upon the organ he now sat at. An old fashioned ink pen was in his black, gloved hand, poised toward a sheet of music entitled: **Don Juan Triumphant.**

_Why does that sound familiar, _Sam thought. He heard lapping water behind him and stood up. Nearly tripping over the bench, he made his way toward the water. He glanced toward the boat that was near the lake's edge, as if it would give him answers as to why he was there. His glance moved from the boat to his reflection in the water, "_**Oh Boy.**_"


	2. Who Is This Angel?

**Who Is This Angel?**

**Author's Note: I know many of the Phantom stories on this site use Webber's lyrics for chapter titles. I wanted to thank those of you who gave me this idea. You know who you are.**

Sam continued to stare at himself in amazement.

"I personally think the mask is a nice touch, Sam."

Sam jumped and turned around and looked exasperatingly at his hologram, friend, Al.

Sam shook his head and looked at him, noticing the Admiral's usual extreme wardrobe.

"Yeah, and I think the green, checkered tie is a fetching addition to your red shirt. You look like a walking, christmas tree."

"Well, aren't we testy."

"Okay, who am I and why am I here," Sam asked, once again looking at his reflection.

"Well, I can't tell you who or why, but I can tell you when and where. You are in Paris at the famous Opera Populaire, well I guess under it. The date is... Damn it, Ziggy." Al, smacked the feisty, little, computer personality, as it whined in retaliation. Al smacked it one more time as his eyes raised in confusion.

"Al, what is it?"

"Sam, apparently, the date is December 1st ...1890."

"That's impossible, Al. I can only leap within my own lifetime." Sam tripped over his long

black cape as he paced the underground lair.

"Well, you do remember that you once leapt into your Great Grandfather in the 1860's."

"It's kind of fuzzy, but vaguely. But, that had to do with the fact that we shared the same dna. I highly doubt that I share the same bloodlines with this...person." Sam looked around the lair as he ran his hand through his hair. Sam turned to look at Al, noticing that

he had a strange look on his face.

"Al, do you know who I have leapt into?"

"I don't know, Sam. I have spoken to this guy in the waiting room. He has a very dark personality, to put it lightly. He keeps yammering about lassos, and angels' of music, and about some woman named, Christine. If I didn't know any better, I would swear it was...nah, too outrageous."

"Al, I don't think anything is outrageous for you. Just say it."

"Well, I wouldn't say that just yet." Al sighed, "Sam, I think you're **_the _**Phantom of the Opera."


	3. Poor Erik

**Poor Erik**

**Disclaimer: Okay, I must reiterate, I do not own POTO or it's Characters.**

"**The** Phantom of the Opera. Why does that sound familiar to me, Al?" Sam sat down at the organ again, touching the sheet of music upon it, as if it was a comfort to him.

"You and your swiss cheesed memory, Sam. The Phantom of the Opera was a famous novel written by Gaston Leroux in the early 1900s. Later it was made into several motion pictures and a broadway play that was produced by Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber. The plot was about a masked man who lived underneath a famous opera house in France. I guess you can say he retired from his days in Persia, where he worked as an assassin for the Shah. So, he helped design and build the opera house. He was able to create his own private domain where he could hide himself from the world. It was there that he fell in love with a ballet dancer, who he tutored privately, lucky hermit. I know I could probably teach her a few things."

Sam gave Al a glare and said, "Al, what exactly did he tutor her in."

Wiping the smirk off his face Al continued, "Sam, the man was a musical genius, Christine went from being a simple chorus girl, into a famous opera singer. Off the stage she had an odd relationship with her tutor. She at first believed he was her Angel of Music, the one that her Father promised to send her on his death bed. When she found out he was just a homicidal man in a mask you can probably understand why she was upset. At this time she turned to her suitor, Raoul De Chagney, for comfort. Though, the opera ghost would not have the Vicomte in his way."

"Al, I am aging here, get to the point."

"Sorry Sam, I didn't realize you were in a rush to get somewhere. Anyway, Erik, aka the Phantom, kidnapped Christine the night she was going to escape with her lover. He gave her a choice, stay and marry him or he would blow up the Opera house. When she chose him he broke down. She showed the only act of kindness he had ever received, she kissed him on the forehead, and cried with him. He let her go with the Vicomte only if she promised to return to him after he died and place the ring he gave her on his finger. At the end of the novel it indicated that she did."

"She must have cared for him in some way if she did that.. Al, this seems awfully out there. Okay, lets say this story is based on fact, and because of some conspiracy it has been kept quiet over the past century. Why would I have leapt into him? It sounds like Christine taught him what he needed to be taught. What would be left?"

Sam walked over to mirror covered with a drape. On instinct, he pulled it off, revealing his masked face and his tall frame dressed all in black. He stared at himself when Al suddenly answered him.

"I don't know Sam. What I do know is that this is too much of a coincidence to ignore."

"Al, you never mentioned to me why his face was covered."

Sam looked at Al, who had an odd mixture of concern and anxiety plastered on his face. Sam swallowed hard, already knowing the answer before it was said.

Al spoke quietly, "His face was badly disfigured. Leroux never went into any details about how it happened. It's the common assumption that he was born with it."

Sam looked nervous as Al continued. "I'll give you three guesses as to what are last clue is to discovering the identity of this guy, and the first two don't count."

"Al, I can't. It would be like we were violating him. The whole point of the mask was for him to hide from prying eyes."

"Sam, it may not even be him. And if it is, then we will at least have a place to start. Unless you have any better ideas."

Sam exhaled as he once again looked at himself in the mirror. He slowly raised his hands to his face as Al looked on with large eyes. Sam touched the mask , the man's long fingers gripped the edges. Sam slowly pulled it off, afraid to look at himself when he succeeded. Al fought back a grimace and a gag as the mystery face was revealed.

Sam opened his eyes and nearly cried in a combination of fear and pity.He finally spoke after several moments of horrific silence. "Poor Erik!


	4. Voices In the Waiting Room

**Voices In the Waiting Room**

**Disclaimer: I forgot to mention that I don't own Quantum Leap or its characters. ****Same goes for Phantom of the Opera.**

Erik looked around the large, white room. He tapped his fingers on the shiny, square thing that looked like a table. Well, actually was tapping someone else's fingers. He had just woken up from a rather embarrassing faint. To think, the Phantom of the Opera, swooning. If that fool who calls himself Al reveals what he had done, Erik would lasso himself an admiral. Oddly, Erik had no idea how he knew Al was a part of the military.

Ironically, at that moment, the giant, paint canvas walked in.

"How's it going, Erik?"

"Monsieur, how is it that you know my name," Erik growled.

"I'm psychic," Al replied, sarcastically.

Erik glared at Al in such a way that it unnerved the former astronaut. Erik was delighted at the unease he caused in the man. It made him feel less vulnerable in this strange place.

"So, OG ," Al started, "what is the last thing you remember?"

"You asked me that last time, Albert. Do you think my answer will be any different now? My memory is so bad, I can't even remember my own last name. Not that it meant anything."

"What do you mean, Erik?"

"You're the psychic, **_AL, _**you figure it out." Erik said his name mockingly, taking out all his confusion and frustration out on the admiral.

"Listen, Phantom, I am your only friend in this place. Do you want to understand the reflection you see, I suggest you be a little more cooperative. By the way, the faster we give each other answers, the faster we get the hell away from each other. Gushi..." He yelled his partner's name as he started to walk out of the room.

"**ALBERT!**"

Al looked around the room. The voice came from everywhere, the floor, walls, ceiling, next to him, away from him. He realized with dismay, it was his cold, companion. Erik looked up from his very different reflection, one that pleased him, and scared him at the same time.

"What do you want to know?"

Al walked toward him, trying to act nonchalant.

"As long as we are bonding," Erik added, in a bored voice, "tell me, what is a gushi?"

**Author's Note: Okay, folks. This will be my last entry for a few days. I am having oral surgery done tomorrow. Safe to say, I will be out of it for a while. By the way, thanks to those who have reviewed, keep it coming. Constructive criticism also welcome!**


	5. The Leaper In the Mirror

**The Leaper in the Mirror**

**Disclaimer: I don not own Phantom of the Opera or Quantum Leap.**

Sam walked around the lair, trying to get a sense of the man he had leapt into. Al had left

about an hour ago, shortly after his face had gone from green, too pale. After the unmasking, Sam had mixed feelings. If this man was the one Al thought he was, Erik, was a psychotic, homicidal , sociopath, which was emphasized by his disfigured appearance.

On the other hand, Sam couldn't help but feel compassion. People were cruel, and he could only imagine the life this poor soul had known. The abuse and most likely, outright hatred that he must have come across was enough to break even the strongest individual.

Sam picked up a sketch of a young woman that was lying on a small desk. She had large, innocent eyes, a generous mouth, and long, curly hair. It was somewhat disturbing that though quite beautiful, she had a haunted look, as if she too had suffered somehow. There was so much sadness in those eyes. Had Erik seen a bit of himself within his young pupil?

Sam stepped down into a chasm, noticing a large room ahead. He walked towards it , moving the large drape that was hanging as a door. He stepped inside, eyes as large as saucers beneath the white mask. There was a large bookcase filled with books on many subjects, ranging from medicine to philosophy. A small desk stood at the opposite wall.

A music box with the figure of a monkey on it's top was upon it. That was not what startled the scientist, though. In the corner of the dark room was a coffin, the top was open, as if offering a morbid invitation. Sam backed up slowly, once again tripping over his long cape. He notice something sparkle from the small desk. He walked over to it and picked up the small object. A weird sense of dread and oddly, warmth spread through his body. The object was a wedding ring!

* * *

Christine sat at her vanity, brushing her uncontrollable curls. Her mind was so distracted that she didn't even notice the graceful blonde enter her room. 

"Christine, Christine!"

Christine's head jerked toward her friend, Meg. She was wearing a full face of stage makeup along with a blue, yellow, and pink stripped ballet dress. She resembled a ballet version of Little Bo Peep.

"Christine, didn't you hear me knocking?" Meg made her way toward the opera singer, noticing how melancholy she looked. She had yet to put on her costume for the Il Muto performance, which consisted of a white peasant shirt, a stripped vest,and blue britches.

"I'm sorry Meg, I guess I was a little distracted."

Meg searched Christine's face, trying to find the answer to her friend's obvious depression.

"Are you thinking about your angel, again?"

"He isn't an angel," Christine said, barely above a whisper. "Meg, I have seen him."

Meg stepped closer, her face blank, nodding her head slowly.

_"Can I ever forget that sight? Can I ever escape from that face? So distorted, deformed, it was hardly a face in that darkness, darkness." _

Christine walked towards the mirror, her eyes staring into it, as if in a far off world of her own. _"But his voice filled my spirit with a strange, sweet sound, in that night there was music in my mind. And through music my soul began to soar! And I heard as I've never heard before. Yet in his eyes all the sadness of the world. Those pleading eyes that both threaten and adore."_

They were both knocked out of their trance, suddenly, when they heard a loud bang on the other side of the mirror. It sounded like a large body that had stumbled to the floor.

"What was that? It was probably just a rat," the girls spoke simultaneously.

Meg grabbed her friend's hands and squeezed. "Christine... you had better get ready. We don't have much time before the play." Christine nodded, squeezing back. They unclasped hands and parted, the door closing behind Meg. Christine grabbed her costume from the changing screen, clutching it to her, holding back tears.

"Poor Erik!"

* * *

Meg stood at christine's door for a moment, trying to process everything that she had heard. 

"Lord, please watch over my friend," Meg prayed. She walked away, a red rose lay in the corner of the dark hallway.

* * *

Sam walked in the dark passageways of the opera house. He glared at his cape, the very one that nearly revealed him to the girls. The girls. The young woman called Christine truly was an angel. She had such a innocent, youthful attitude about her. He couldn't quite understand the pull he felt towards her. Her friend, Meg seemed to be her tower. There was something special about her, more that meets the eye. Something Sam couldn't quite put his finger on. 

Noticing a rat, Sam jumped over it, landing on his cape, which nearly caused him to fall once again. He cursed the clumsiness he never completely lost from childhood. "How does he move in this thing?"

Sam turned a corner, not knowing where he was going. But, he was the Opera Ghost, dang it. He had some haunting to do. A hard object banged against his side as he moved, he ignored it, as he disappeared down a long corridor.

**Author's Note: As most of you can probably tell, there are partial quotes from Webber's Phantom in italics. Even though originally the dialog was with Raoul, I thought it fit well, here.**


	6. Awaiting the PhantomNight's Performance

Awaiting the Phantom's/Night's Performance

**Disclaimer: You know the drill. I do not own the Phantom or Sam Beckett, much to ****my disappointment. Anyway, moving right along.**

Joseph Buquet looked around stage from his post. He smiled as the scantily clad chorus girls rushed around the stage, anxiously awaiting the night's performance. "Ladies," he called, er, obnoxiously hollered. The girls giggled as they rushed past, abruptly stopping when they caught sight of Madame Giry. They looked downward as they passed her, all the while the ballet mistress scowled at Buquet.

Joseph ignored her as he walked around backstage. That woman was already an old crone. Joseph had no doubt he could loosen her up, and not in her flexibility. As his Father always said women were like blossoms, it was up to the man to pollinate as many as he could.

His father; lecher, drunk, gambler... sad, lonely, disillusioned. Joseph's Mother had died when he was a toddler. His Father had to take on the roles of both parents, unfortunately, he didn't know how to be either. The only pleasing memories he had of his Father were his stories. Joseph loved to here about his Father's time as sea. When it was just him, the waves, the salty breeze, and the stars as his guide.

It was the morning after one of these stories when young Buquet found his father slumped over a bottle of Brandy. He had drunk the whole bottle, drinking himself to the grave. At that time, ourteen year old Joseph showed no emotion. After the very small funeral, he packed the few belongings that he had and went on his way. He survived for several years, working odd jobs all around Paris. He worked hard all day, lived a debauched life by night.

When he was hired at the opera house as a stage hand he couldn't have been happier. He could mix work with pleasure. He was thankful he inherited his Father's knack for telling stories. The Opera Ghost was giving him plenty of stories to tell to his little, ballet harem. Giving him plenty of opportunities to play.

Joseph watched as Christine and Meg ran past him, his eyes roving over their young bodies. How he loved this opera house. Joseph made his way back to his post, not realizing that he was about to be pulled under by a tidal wave.

* * *

Sam walked along the uninviting passageway, chills running up and down his spine. He couldn't believe he was letting this leap get to him. This particular one was a walk in the park in comparison to many of them. The name Oswald came to mind. About ten feet ahead of him he saw what looked like a trap door in the low ceiling. Was this one of the many trap doors Erik had romanced? 

A hand suddenly gripped the back of his shoulder, interrupting his thoughts. Sam grabbed the arm attached to it, and flipped the unknown person over his shoulder. A female's voice cried out, as she landed on her rump. "Oh, my Lord in heaven." the woman said as she stood, rather shakily. She crossed herself as she looked at Sam's masked face.

"Are you trying to kill me Monsieur Phantom?"

"I'm sorry, Madam. I didn't realize..." Sam stammered as he looked at the trembling woman.

"Madam, huh, since when are you so formal," the woman in the black dress, asked, suddenly straightening as tall as any self respecting person would.

Sam suddenly heard the imaging chamber open. Al walked over to stand beside Sam, clearly angry and shaken.

"I can't believe that slimy rat... Oh, now this bring me back to my days in boarding school." Al looked at the sedate woman before him. "We had a Librarian that looked a lot like her. Do you think if I am bad she will spank me?"

"Al," Sam whispered, pulling an Erik as he tried not to move his lips, "Who is she?"

"Oh, yeah, um." Al squabbled with Ziggy as he tried to retrieve the data.

"Erik," the woman spoke suddenly, "I hate to ask this, but I must. When you took her down, you didn't hurt her, did you?"

Sam assumed, the she, was Christine. Now he knew this had to be someone who was at least somewhat close to her.

"Did she look hurt to you," Sam asked, deliberately answering her question with a question.

"Monsieur, I didn't take you for someone who played games," she started straitening the tight bun in her hair, which had fallen loose during her fall. She sighed. "I know how much you love her and I just can't believe that you would harm her. You wouldn't hurt my Meg, let alone Christine."

"Sam, this must be Madam: Antoinette Giry," Al shouted. "She is Meg's mother and Christine's honorary mother. She is either the box keeper or the ballet Mistress. I guess it all depends on whether we are going by Leroux or Webber. Or in the real history, she might be neither."

Sam nodded his head, Giry, thinking it was an affirmation, accepted it. She stepped toward him putting a hand on his shoulder. Sam looked in her eyes and what he saw shocked him. He saw awe, respect, and sympathy. He wondered how these two knew each other.

"Erik, please promise me you will not do anything, well," she searched for the right words, weighing them as if they were rare diamonds. "Well, just anything." Madame Giry gave a polite bow as she scurried off, feeling her way through the dark.

When Sam was sure she had disappeared he turned to Al. "She is a living, breathing contradiction. Madame Giry acts fearless and yet treats this guy with reverence."

"Those are the best kind," Al replied distracted, as she took a puff from his cigar.

"Al, get your mind out of the gutter and help me through this maze. Does Ziggy have any data on the blueprints of this opera house?"

"As a matter of fact, Mr. Sunshine, yes. She has the plans to this place from top to bottom."

Sam's pace quickened and yet became lighter with every step. Al likened his movements to that of a ghost. Al's anxiety level rose, suddenly noticing his surroundings. "Sam, you turn," Al never finished his sentence, for Sam had already turned into another passage. Oddly, it was the right one, the one Al never said aloud.

Somewhere, music started playing.

**Author's Note: I would like to thank those of you who R&R. You guys, rock!**


	7. He's Here, the Phantom Leaper

**He's Here, the Phantom Leaper!**

**Author's Note: You will recognize this scene from Webber's play, as well as the 2004 movie. I thought it would be interesting to see this scene from another point of view. Anyway, on with the show.**

**Disclaimer: See previous chapters.**

"Gushi, send me on Sam. What do you mean you can't get a lock on him. Gushi, he's not acting like himself. I need to get to that kid."

Al continued to punch data into the hand computer, trying to keep calm. Sam had escaped out of the hologram's sight only moments before. While Al had been trying to communicate with him about the plans of the house, Sam had ignored him. In fact, he seemed to be completely ignorant of his existence. He had made a sudden disappearance through what looked liked a trap door. Now he was anxious to find out where he had gone.

"What do you mean he seems to be in the waiting room and yet, not. Gushi, I have a bad feeling about this." He barely finished his sentence when he found himself right next to Sam. He looked around the back of the stage, trying to get a barring on his surroundings. His heart started to sink as he looked into his friend's eyes. This man was not Dr. Samuel Beckett.

* * *

Erik felt a little disoriented as he prowled around backstage. What had he been doing. His mind was kind of in a fog, until he heard the music. 

"They say that this youth has set my lady's heart aflame!"

Erik remembered with a jolt. Oh yes, those fools had dared defy his commands. Well, he would just have to enlighten them. As Erik reached into his pocket to switch Carlotta's throat spray with the _croak_ spray he felt like someone was watching him. He looked around, everyone was busy with their duties, so why did he feel like a pair of eyes were on him. He didn't stick around to find out as he made his way up to the catwalks above the stage.

"Serafimo, away with this pretense! You cannot speak, but kiss me in my husband's absence. Poor fool, he makes my laugh, hahaha haha! Time I tried to get a better better half."

Erik made his along the catwalk, he peered over the stage with a sneer. He smiled at what as an idea came to him.

"... If he knew the truth he'd never ever go!"

_**" Did I not instruct that box five was to be kept empty?"**_

Erik smirked at everyone's reaction, which slowly faded, as he became aware of the man looking for him. He wished that damn, Buquet would leave him alone. Erik despised the fact that Buquet used him to lure girls to him. He also saw the way he looked at Christine and little Meg as well. The man made his blood boil. Erik was snapped out of his musings when when Carlotta snapped at Christine.

"Your part is silent little toad."

"A toad madame, perhaps it is you who are the toad." Erik spoke loudly enough for Carlotta to hear him.

After Carlotta's maid liberally sprayed her throat with the bottle that was on the table, the former walked back onto the stage. Her anxiety was very apparent as she signaled the orchestra leader to continue.

"Serafimo, away with this pretense! You cannot speak, but kiss me in my, _croak."_

What amused Erik was the fact that his laughter was weaker in comparison to that of the audience. He finally started walking away toward the auditorium dome. Once inside he shut the door casually, a pleased look upon his features. Suddenly, Erik turned, thinking he heard a somewhat familiar voice. Erik shrugged, dismissing it as he kept his eyes open for that twit, Joseph Buquet.

* * *

Joseph saw the swish of a black cape as he walked on the catwalks above the stage. His face held a mixture of curiosity and mischief. Joseph looked below him, watching Carlotta make a complete fool of herself. That woman deserved what she got. She sang like a bird, a crow came to mind. 

Carlotta let out one final croak before she ran off the stage, whining to her maid. The curtains closed before Buquet's eyes as he heard Firmen apologizing to the audience.

He raised his eyes as he heard who was to take over the part of the Countess. Well, that should please his Highness. That freak of nature was getting spoiled. As that thought crossed his path, so did the freak. Joseph's eyes widened as he saw the masked maniac before his eyes. He gasped and started running, the opera ghost not far behind.

After a few moments of playing cat and mouse, Buquet was trapped. The last thought that came to his mind as the noose went around his neck was, _What would the Old Man have done?_

* * *

Al looked on in horror as he saw Sam chasing the stagehand. "Gushi, how can this be happening? It looks like Erik has taken over Sam completely. We fixed this a long time ago, how can he" Al never finished his sentence, for at that moment Sam/Erik pulled out the lasso and made his way toward Buquet's neck. 

Desperate, Al tried what he did when Oswald had taken over. He just hoped that Sam wasn't too far gone to reach.

"Sam, what are the four fundamental forces of interactions in Quantum Physics?"

He watched dumbly as Sam brought the noose over the frightened man's neck and pulled.

"Sam," Al screamed, "What are the four fundamental forces of interactions in Quantum Physics?"

Buquet struggled for breath, his drunken pallor turning blue. Al watched helplessly as Sam pulled on the noose harder. Then, suddenly, Sam/Erik's grip loosened, then Al heard the soft answers coming from his mouth.

"Gravitation, electromagnetism, nuclear force." Sam's voice faded as he loosened the noose completely and lifted it off of Joseph Buquet's neck. Al watched as the shaken man rubbed his sore neck, backing away slowly. Then, as quickly as Sam had let him go, he grabbed him by the collar and yanked him off his feet.

"Just remember Buquet, if this gets out, I will know who told. And trust me, the consequences of such a foolish action, will be far worse than strangulation. Understand?"

The dangling man nodded to the best of his ability and breathed in deep as he was was dropped back on his feet. He stumbled away, ironically, nearly in time to the melody of the ballet below.

Al looked at Sam, dumbfounded. He noticed his friend's eyes had returned to normal. He looked back at the hologram with amusement, as well as confusion.

"What," Sam asked. He walked away, failing to appear elegant because, he once again, tripped on his cape. As he yanked at it irritatingly, he failed to notice a blonde ballerina looking up toward the rafters, awe filling her blue eyes.


	8. He's There, Inside My Mind

_**He's There, Inside My Mind**_

**Author's Note: Okay, just wanted for you to keep your eyes open for a reference to one of QL's episodes. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom or Quantum, yada, yada, yada. **

"Oh, Christine, you sang like an angel tonight." Raoul looked at Christine and suppressed a sigh. She was staring at herself in her vanity mirror, eyes glazed over. Trying to get through to her was like trying to step through the mirror she was looking in. He eyed her as she held her brush, not even making a move to use it. Raoul grabbed the brush from her elegant fingers.

"Christine, are you all right? You have been acting strangely ever since the night of your performance in Hannibal."

"Raoul, I am fine. I guess I am just a little overwhelmed with all the attention."

Ignoring her reply he said, "What happened that night?"

Christine was silent for a long time, making Raoul think she wasn't going to answer him. His irritation rising, he was about ready to press her, when she spoke.

"I met my angel of Music, face to face, Raoul. Only he wasn't an angel, he was a man. A horribly disfigured, dark, soul. A man full of rage and... passion, and sadness."

Raoul listened as she conveyed her experience underneath the opera house. His brow furrowed as she finished her tale, letting everything sink in.

"Christine," he started, obviously not convinced, "what you saw must have been a dream. After all, a hermit living under the Opera Populair. It sounds like something out of the stories we read to each other as children."

"Raoul, don't patronize me. I know what I saw. What I experienced was no dream. The Phantom of the Opera is real. How else would you explain what happened tonight? That voice came from everywhere and nowhere at the same time."

Raoul, feeling extremely uneasy about the whole thing, reacted childishly. "Christine, I don't want to hear it." Raoul turned to walk out when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Raoul, I am frightened. This creature of darkness has a strange pull on me. No matter how much my mind beats against him, my soul obeys his call. His control over me is, disarming."

Jealousy flared in Raoul, over a man he had never laid eyes on, a disfigured one at that. When he saw the fear in Christine's eyes he shoved it aside and took her in his arms. He rested his chin on her head, as she curled her arms around his waist. As the moment stretched on, Raoul's mind wandered. _Christine, why do I sense that a part of you finds __his control over you, exciting?_

* * *

"Sam, what was that back there?" 

Sam and Al were now back in the lair, after many wrong turns. It was safe to say the Phantom was gone. Sam seemed to ignore the question as he clumsily guided the boat he was in. His mind was reeling. _How could this happen again?_

Sam moored the boat as he carefully stepped out of it. Unfortunately that didn't work, as he stepped on his cape and fell backwards into the water. Sam could see Al was suppressing a laugh despite the situation as he, himself, suppressed irritation. He stumbled out of the water, his cape wrapped around his body. His calm facade, however did not last long. Sam struggled to get the cape off as Al watched with great humor. When he finally succeeded , then came the explosion.

"This damn thing is out to get me," Sam yelled. He threw it on the floor in tantrum, storming around the room like a mad man, er, phantom. "What's the point of it,to start a fashion trend. It doesn't make you look sexy, it makes you look like a jackass!"

Sam clothes clung to him as water dripped from them. He looked at the hologram, noticing his smile.

"I am glad I am amusing you, Al," Sam said, glaring at his friend. He put a hand through his wet hair, trying to dry it.

"Oh, come on kid. One day you are going to look back on this leap and laugh." Al eyed Sam's death like look. "It won't be any time soon," he continued quickly.

* * *

After Sam had dried off and found a change of clothes he walked back into the main room, where Al was waiting. Though more comfortable, Sam still was very concerned. Which was obviously apparent to both of them. 

"What happened, Sam?" Al brought the cigar he held to his mouth, inhaling deeply.

"I don't know, Al. It's like what happened when I leaped into Oswald. Erik's mind merged with my own and it just, took over for a while. I am glad you got through to me, Al. I could have killed that guy. I can tell you, Erik sure doesn't think much of Buquet."

"Oh, you got that right. Erik told me what he thought of him," Al started, "If this gives you any kind of hint, even I don't want to repeat it."

"Al, what else did you find out? I need to put right what once went wrong, so I can get out of here."

"Unfortunately, he didn't tell us much more than what we already know. Though, now Ziggy is ninety-nine percent sure he is the famous Phantom de la Opera. Oh, you may find this interesting. The lasso crazed, Zorro said that he was teaching two students. He didn't specify who the other one was. My bet is on the blonde with the great set of, slippers."

"How can you be certain it's not your little Librarian wannabee."

Al's eyes glazed over as he though about the possibility.

"AL," Sam's irritated voice echoed around the lair.

"Sam if you want to find out anything, go to his **_pupils. _**This mystery student may know even more than our opera star. I think finding out who that person is would be essential."

Sam rolled his eyes, "And they say I am the genius. What are you going to do on your end."

"Already beat ya to it. Marie is working on him right now. She is trying to get to the bottom of his past, as well as what he was doing before you leapt in. Oh," Al laughed. "Is OG gonna have fun with her."

"Oh, I think he is the only one that could hold his own with, Marie the barracuda," Sam replied, laughing for the first time since he had come. Al laughed in reply and stopped short from entering the imaging chamber.

"Sam, was that you or Erik who threatened Buquet not to say anything."

Sam just smiled and said nothing in reply. It had been a little of both, but being ambiguous was something Sam had grown rather fond of during this leap. Al shrugged it off and then disappeared.

Sam turned around and stopped abruptly. The sight that met him was surprising, though not shocking. There, standing a few feet away from him, was Erik's angel, Christine.

**Another Author's Note: The idea of nicknaming Marie, The Barricuda, came from an episode of Smallville. Another favorite show of mine. Just wanted to pay credit to where it was do.**


	9. The Barracuda Meets the Phantom

**The Barracuda Meets the Phantom**

**Disclaimer: I do no own The Phantom or Quantum Leap. I do own Marie the Barracuda, though.**

_**New Mexico, Waiting Room**_

Marie approached the door to the waiting room. As the project's psychiatrist, it was her job to interview all the patients that leaped in. Some of the sessions were very simple, the patients having only minor anxieties. Others, were just plain kooky. Much like the one she was about to embark on. Marie pushed her 5'4" frame toward the door, trying to hide the anxiety that she felt. If this man truly was the Phantom of the Opera, she had finally met her match.

She entered swiftly, brushing away some stray hair that had fallen out of her clip. She spotted Sam, er, Erik, standing erect a few feet away. His gaze was on her, unnerving the stoic doctor. It was Dr. Beckett's eyes, yet they weren't . Those eyes were so intense, and piercing, like he could see straight into her soul. Marie cleared her throat, while she played with her ink pen.

"Hello, Erik. I am Dr. Marie Felder."

"Hello, Mademoiselle."

Marie looked behind her, startled by the low, seductive voice in her ear. She looked back at her patient, shaken to find that no one had been next to her.

"That is quite the party trick, Monsieur. But, you don't need to entertain me," Marie replied, hiding her anxiety. She approached him, her posture as erect as his.

Erik inclined his head toward her, his mouth mere inches from her ear. "Really, pity," he whispered, causing a shiver down her back.

Marie mentally kicked herself for showing her weakness. That of dark men with sexy voices, and disarming eyes. She took a deep breath and blew out, hoping the former assassin didn't notice the goosebumps on her arms.

"Erik, not to sound cliché, but I would like to talk with you about your past."

Erik/Sam brought a hand forward and brushed another stray hair out of the doctor's face. Dr. Felder suppressed a shudder as he caressed her hair, his gaze wandering from her eyes to her mouth. He stopped the worship his fingers were giving to her hair and pulled his hand away. The Doctor took a step back, a mixture of relief and disappointment washed over her.

The Opera Ghost spoke, causing electrical currents to shoot through her, despite herself.

"Where would you like me to start, Doctor?"

* * *

"Where would you like me to start, Doctor?" 

Erik smiled, noticing the affect he had on this woman. He had to give her credit, though, she was strong, he guessed she would not back down easily. He quickly looked her up and down, _oh yes, she's a pistol._

Her eyes were a deep brown that seemed to hold years of wisdom, they reminded him of someone else he knew. Her dress was sapphire blue, which ended at her knees. He looked at it quizzically. In Persia he saw a lot more skin than that, but, it was different. Christine, Meg, and Antoinette usually had their legs covered, unless they were performing. Not that he minded. His gaze wandered up to her swan like neck. He wondered what kind voice would come out of that throat. What would it feel like to have his fingers wrapped around that neck?

_No, I don't do that anymore. _

Erik notice his once over of her was getting to her. In her eyes he noticed a mix of anxiety and irritation.

"You may start wherever you want to, Erik."

"Well, let's see. I was born June the 3rd, 1853." Erik noticed how she was making notations as he continued. "I was raises in a circus by two baboons, Stinky and Hairy." Dr. Felder looked up from her notepad. "They taught me the value of hard work. I made my living by catching flies with my bare hands and peeling bananas with my feet. People came from all around the world just to see me."

"Erik," Marie interrupted.

He ignored her and continued, "One day I found a lamp, which had a genie inside."

"Erik," Marie said, irritation thick in her voice.

"He told me he would grant me three wishes. I told him I wanted to be a composer, magician, and an assassin. Not necessarily in that order. He granted them, and I lived a very prosperous, full life."

"Erik, do you always make jokes when you are trying to avoid a painful memory."

Erik approached her slowly, much like a lion stalking its prey. When he reached her he bent his tall frame down to her level and said, "Tell me, Felder, do you always try to hide your femininity while in the company of men?" His eyes drifted to her white jacket, which she had snugly closed over herself only moments before.

Responding to the challenge she stretched to her full height and released her arms from under her breast, coat flowing loosely once again.

Marie sighed and said, "Erik, tell me about your Mother."

Hatred flared through Erik's soul which reflected in his eyes. He noticed Marie's startled step back at his reaction. Eyes blazing, he once again bent his face down to hers and replied, icily, "The only thing you need to know about my Mother is that she was an uncaring, unreliable, whore!"

He stepped back from her, the cold air followed him. He looked at his reflection in the table and stood in a slouched position, unlike his normal erect one. He suddenly heard a quiet, yet strong voice behind him.

"Erik, I think that will be enough for today."

He heard steady, yet light steps to the door. He turned to find that most of her dark, blonde hair had fallen out from that weird looking contraption on her head. Her graceful movements reminded him so much of her.

When she had disappeared from his view he moaned in irritation. _How am I going to get out of here?_

* * *

Once outside the waiting room, Marie backed up against the wall, trying to pull her fragile nerves together. She breathed deeply, and then blew out a shaky breath. 

"Hey, Marie."

She jumped as she looked up into Al's eyes.

"Calavicci, what are you trying to do, give me a heart attack."

He smirked and said, "No, if I was trying to kill you I would use my hands."

Marie pulled away from the wall, body trembling, despite her will to control it.

Al's smile faded, "Hey, are you all right, Doc?" He brought his hand to her shoulder in a thoughtful touch.

"I'm fine, Al, really," she said, as they walked away from the waiting room.

"Uh, oh, now I know something is wrong, you called me Al."

She looked at him questionably as he continued, " You usually call me, Admiral, Calavicci, or my favorite, Sexist Pig."

Marie smiled for the first time that morning and said, "How's Dr. Beckett."

"Frustrated as you can imagine, but he is still digging for clues. That kid never gives up. Are you getting anywhere with OG?"

"That man is the most disturbing, yet, fascinating person I have met in a long time. He is so full of rage, Al."

"Funny, he seemed so apathetic about everything when I spoke to him. He just didn't seem to care about anything. He was quite sarcastic as well," Al replied, his dislike for the man showing through.

"Oh, I saw that side of him too." She paused and then said, "You should have seen his reaction when I asked about his Mother, Al. It brings the whole Mommy Dearest thing to a whole new level. His eyes showed so much hatred and pain. A part of me wanted to run from him, while the other wanted so much to reach out and comfort him."

Al stopped and looked at her. Confusion washed over her when concern showed in his eyes.

"Be careful, Felder. He seems to have a strange affect on" he weighed his words,"people of the female gender."

"Oh, come on, Calavicci, do you honestly think I would let this man get to me."

Al replied quietly, "Why do I get a feeling he has already?"

Marie smiled sadly as she walked away from Al, toward her office. She turned around abruptly.

"Thank you, Admiral. One thing is for sure, I wasn't counting on meeting someone like Erik. But, just know that he wasn't counting on me. After all", Marie finished, as she opened the door to her office, "they don't call me the Barracuda for nothing."

She closed the door behind her, smiling at the shocked look that was on Al's face on the other side.


	10. That Man and Mystery

**That Man and Mystery**

**Author's Note: Sorry it has been so long, my life has been quite crazy. I appreciate everyone's patience. May I present chapter ten.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the messed up yet totally sexy phantom. Nor do I claim to own Quantum Leap or its characters.**

Sam looked at the woman before him. Her hair was down and wild, eyes soft, and was wearing a light, blue nightgown that didn't leave much to the imagination. She was breathing heavily, looking as if she had just run a marathon. Sam suspected she was not training for the olympics. The sight was innocent and yet strangely erotic. He thought it was ironic that he was the one being hypnotized and not her.

Sam finally spoke, trying to keep his voice steady. "Christine, what are you doing here? And, how did you get here?"

"Why is it that men think girls have no sense of direction," Christine replied, lightheartedly. "I took the passageway you lead me through last night."

She walked slowly toward him, soft expression now gone from her face. He saw what looked like anger in her eyes, brows coming together. Sam couldn't believe he thought it was cute. When she finally reached him she spoke, steadily and coolly.

"You caused Carlotta's little vocal problem tonight, didn't you."

Sam didn't understand the feeling of shame that washed over him. He didn't even know the woman, and it's not like he did it. He couldn't meet Christine's eyes as he slowly nodded. Expecting either a lecture or even a slap, nothing prepared him for her reaction. A giggle escaped her lips as she jumped on Sam/Erik and embraced him.

"Oh, Erik, that was great, you provided us all with such delightful entertainment. That woman was just demonstrating what we already knew. She truly is a toad."

Sam was taken aback as he gently unwound the girl from his arms. Now looking at her, he couldn't help but smile at her laughter. Her eyes were full of mischief, uncontrollable giggling spilling forth from her lips. She looked up at him and playfully, faked disapproval.

"That was bad Erik, very bad. You should be very ashamed. Do you think this will alter her chances at having a prince kiss her?"

Christine wrapped her arms around her waist, trying to control herself. Sam heartily laughed with her, and just as quickly as it began, it stopped. Sadness suddenly came upon him, feeling it from his very core. Startled by his sudden shift in mood he stepped back from Erik's protege. Christine noticed it as well for she also stepped back, suddenly nervous. The air was becoming thick causing them both to shutter.

Sam felt Erik's presence, yet Sam was still in the most control. He was feeling Erik's pain. It was so strong, he was having a hard time deciphering which feelings were his and which were Erik's. He couldn't understand how moments before he and Christine were joyously laughing, and the next they were close to tears. Sam felt anger creep up to intermingle with the pain. He walked several feet away from the new Primadonna, as if moving away from her would ease the tension.

"Oh, Erik, I am so sorry about what happened between us last night."

* * *

Christine's heart raced as she watched her mentor pace the floor. He still had not responded to her apology. The mood had changed so quickly her mind was still whirling. In fact, she really didn't understand why she had been so fun loving and friendly to begin with. Not even an hour before she had been telling her beau how frightened she was of this man. Told him how he made chills go up her spine, dread to build up in her soul, and her body to shiver. What she didn't know or openly confess was whether these reactions stemmed from fear, or something else. 

Erik sat down at his organ and leaned his head into his hands, seemingly ignoring her. Christine just stood there, as if waiting to be dismissed. She noticed how the air was thickening with tension, where only moments before it had been light and warm. It reminded Christine of her relationship with Erik, a living contradiction. She had known him since her thirteenth year, when he had started training her secretly. During these exciting and wondrous sessions she gradually got to know the man before her.

At times he was very calm and serene. She found he could be quite funny and was a grand storyteller. Sometimes at night when she couldn't sleep, he would tell her about Persia and the Mighty Shah. He told her about the daroga of Mazenderan. He told her how this law officer saved a man from his imminent execution. Christine thoroughly enjoyed the story, though, she always suspected he was holding something back. Leaving something out of the story deliberately.

His stories, however, were not the only ones being told. During those six years of tutelage with her angel, she had heard the stories of the infamous Phantom of the Opera. In fact, she and Meg would tell each other tales of the Phantom late at night, trying and usually succeeding in scaring one another. Of course, Madame Giry would usually discover them up past their bed time and would get a slap with her baton.

Amazingly, Christine never suspected her mentor was the very one the Opera House was in a stir about. She only knew him as her Angel of Music, the spirit her Father sent her. Not a man that lived under the opera house. She didn't think she could even see him, which was why she never expressed a desire too. So, during most of her teens, she lived in ignorant bliss.

Over the years Erik encouraged her to persevere with her lessons. He constantly told her of his dreams for her, and how sure he was of her success. If anything, he made her feel special and even loved. Of course, Christine would also cross paths with his other side. The side of darkness and hate. The side that made her draw back in fear. If she hit a note wrong he would start cursing in a language she was not familiar with. If she dared defy him, his voice would become dark and and full of dread. He told her never to anger him, or the consequences would be undesirable.

She learned that the hard way, the very night she found out he was only a man. A pitiful, yet, amazing man. Last night had been the most seductive one of her life and she had to ruin it. The one moment she longed to take back. The moment her hands touch the cool, white mask and thoughtlessly ripped it from her angel's face. Oh, yes, how she wished she could take it back.


	11. Who Is Who?

**Who Is Who?**

**Author's Note: Wow, it has been a while. This chapter is longer than the other ones, ****so, I hope that makes up for it. In this chapter, you will notice differences in Sam's behavior. You will also get some insight on Erik's and Christine's relationship. Meg's involvement in the plot thickens somewhat. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom of the Opera or Quantum Leap.**

Sam's form started to relax as he touched the black and white keys. He didn't know if he knew how to play, or if Erik's know how was coming out. All he knew was the sense of serenity that overcame him. He was playing a melody unfamiliar to him, and yet, it came to him like an old friend. He sensed Christine behind him as the beautiful notes wafted out into the entire lair.

"_The Resurrection of Lazarus_! One of my favorite pieces, Erik."

She touched his shoulder, his body stiffening at the contact. He struggled to beat down Erik's emotions within him. They were smothering his relatively, calm composure. If he couldn't get them under control, he wouldn't be able to get the information he needed. He turned toward Christine suddenly, noting the hurt expression in her eyes. She walked around the organ, stroking the top of it with her slender fingers. She focused on the act, as if was a source of comfort.

"I am so sorry, Erik." She repeated the apology in a quiet voice, like she didn't want to startle him.

Sam sensed how agonized Erik's feelings were. The problem was, he didn't know why. Sam fought through Erik's presence and responded.

"Thank you, Christine. That took a lot of courage. I forgive you, but you also need to forgive yourself."

Christine looked at him like he had grown another head. She ignored the shock that overcame her by Sam's/Erik's response and said, "I know, but, how could I have just ripped that mask, your armor, from your face."

Sam startled not only Christine, but, himself at his sudden outburst of anger. His seat went flying as he stood up and exclaimed, "You took off his mask. You may as well have raped him. That was very thoughtless, Christine."

"Wait just a minute, Erik. What I did was wrong, but, you didn't respond to the situation like that of a Saint, either. You frightened and hurt me with your violent outrage. You threw me to the ground like a lifeless doll. You insulted me for my actions like an angry Father!"

"You can't talk, Christine. Considering you are chastising me like a nagging, mother. Don't turn this around on me. You don't rip away a person's clothing in response to your own selfish, curiosity." Sam mentally kicked himself, _Shut up, Erik!_

"I am selfish? You more or less kidnapped me, drugged me, manipulated me and used my feelings about my Father to your advantage."

Sam approached her, now less than a foot away from her. He felt helpless as years of anger fell from Erik's lips.

"How do you expect me to react. You are looking at a man who has never known love. Who has killed in cold blood for a living, and because of being shunned by society had to hide himself in a hole underground. I don't think you're qualified to judge me!"

Sam stalked away from her, his body shaking with anger. He placed his hands on top of the organ, leaning all his weight on it. He suddenly felt a small, warm hand on his back. Christine made small circular motions with her fingers, in an effort to soothe.

"I am sorry I ripped off your mask, Erik."

With that one statement, Christine said all that was needed to be said. Sam turned around and grabbed her hand, caressing it with his, gently.

"And, I am sorry I hurt you. My past is no excuse for my actions toward you," Sam replied, uncertain if that had been him or Erik talking.

Christine looked up at Sam with shining eyes. Christine moved closer to him, close enough for Sam to feel the warmth radiating off her body. A warning bell went off in Sam's head, _danger, danger!_ He placed his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her a step back. He saw the disappointment in her eyes, which therefore moved him to caress her face, gently.

"Shall we start over, Moi Petite."

"I would love that, Angel."

Sam led her toward one of the secret passages he had found earlier, during one of his snooping sessions. "I think it is time for you to return, or, someone may start looking for you. Come, I will take you part of the way." As he opened the passage, Christine grabbed his arm.

"There is something I must tell you, my angel."

Sam paused his actions and looked at Christine to continue. Christine looked away from him, suddenly appearing shy. She looked down and then back up at him. She then spoke, in a quiet voice, "That night you told me to come to you, was the most enchanting night I had ever known. When I walked through that mirror, I felt like I was entering another world. A world where all I saw, was you."

Sam hid a gulp as he listened to her sultry voice. He had a weird feeling stirring within him.

"What I am trying to say Erik, is that, you didn't have to drug me to get me to consent. I would have come to you willingly, gladly."

He watched in stunned silence as Christine quickly entered the passage. As he silently followed, his mind became filled with even more questions. Could Christine's feelings for her Master be more than platonic?

* * *

Meg wandered along the halls of the Opera House. They had just finished the last act of the opera only an hour before. She had seen him. His movements like that of a panther, his black cape billowing behind him. She nearly missed the next step of her routine when she first caught sight of him. A dreaded feeling had welled up in her stomach, which quickly dissipated moments after. A feeling of serenity followed, like the sea after a storm. 

After the last act, Meg left the stage. Observing the anxious Vicomte and rising Opera singer disappearing behind the stage. She was curious about what was going on with those two. They were so lovey dovey one second, and acted as frigid as strangers the next. Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice the stage hand, Buquet, until she nearly ran into him. He bowed suddenly, shaking all over, as if something had frightened him.

"Mademoiselle, Meg. I do apologize, forgive me."

He ran away from her suddenly, stumbling on his own feet. Meg wondered who that man was who looked like Joseph Buquet. She had never heard the man apologize in her whole life. And not one sneer escaped his mouth. She turned around and for the second time that night, Meg once again nearly ran into someone.

"Monsieur, are you all right. You look positively livid."

"I am quite fine, Mademoiselle, Meg. Thank you for the inquiry."

Meg grabbed his arm before he could walk away.

"Raoul," she said, "does this have to do with Christine?"

Instead of the Vicomte appearing appalled at her use of his first name, he actually looked like he would answer. He opened his mouth, his heart crying out for a hearing ear. Though, his masculine dignity, won out over his heart.

"I cannot, Meg. I just will not talk about this."

He walked away from her quickly, his stride like that of a determined, leader. Meg turned away from him, shaking her head. She headed toward her dormitory, thanking God she didn't have angst in her life like some people. Oh, who was she kidding. Angst surrounded her in all forms, yet never landed directly on her. She secretly wished that just once, angst would actually land on her own doorstep.

* * *

Sam paced the lair, trying to make sense of what just happened. It is obvious there is something more to Erik's and Christine's relationship that meets the eye. Was that his answer? Were they supposed to be together? Was that the wrong that need to be put right? Or was there something more involved with this leap than that? Maybe Erik was meant for something much bigger than just dying alone in a sewer.

* * *

_**New Mexico, Marie's Office**_

Marie had just spent several hours doing research on Leroux's book, his life, and the history of the opera house. How she loved Ziggy's search database. She came to find out that Gaston Leroux held fast to his conviction up until the very moment of his death, the Opera Ghost did exist.

What was also interesting, was that the chandelier really did crash down from the ceiling in the year 1890. The incident had killed seven people, many were injured in the scurry to get away. She couldn't help but suspect who was behind it.

There been a famous opera singer by the name of Christine Daae. She had been the Primadonna for nearly a year before she mysteriously disappeared in the year 1891. Intriguingly, at the same time, the Patron of the Opera Populair also disappeared. A man by the name of Raoul de Chagny.

Marie's finger clicked on her mouse, as she searched for the Vicomte's siblings. Her fingersviolently punched at the keyboard, irritated whenever Ziggy froze her data in retaliation. After searching for nearly an hour, she was about ready to throw her computer across the room. She still couldn't find any names for his siblings.

"Ziggy, don't make me Ask Jeeves!"

Marie froze at the info that suddenly popped up on screen. The blood drained from her face as she stared at the monitor, eyes refusing to look away. **_Sisters: Katherine and Emily. Brothers: Philippe and Erik._**

* * *


	12. What the Mirror Revealed

**What the Mirror Revealed**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Quantum Leap or Phantom Of the Opera. But, I do own the Barracuda.**

**Project Quantum Leap, New Mexico**

**Al's office **

Al put down his coffee at the sound of urgent knocking on his door. He opened it to find the Barracuda on the other side. She looked distracted, chewing on the end of a pen, hair falling out of her once neat bun. She brushed passed him and seated herself on the other side of his desk. Al made his way around it and sat in his chair. He leaned back and waited patiently for her to speak.

"Admiral, I have come across some information you may, will, find quite interesting."

"Really," Al replied, lighting a cigar.

"You even think about smoking that, I will tell everyone you watch **_Oprah._**"

Al quickly snuffed out the cigar and said, "Only because Tina wants me to. She thinks I will learn something."

"Wishful thinking on her part," Marie replied, crossing her right leg over her left.

"Look, GI Jane. As fond as I am of our verbal battles, let's get to the point at hand. Now, what could you have possibly found out from our moody computer?"

Marie's mood changed to all business as she replied, "I did some research on the De Chagney family. Raoul was actually the fourth youngest of five children. Guess who the name of the oldest brother was."

"I don't know, Big Raoul," Al said, smartly.

Marie bit back a retort and said with intense eyes, "Erik."

Al's eyes grew big and he said, "What did you find out about this guy?"

Marie continued, "It's not so much what I found, but what I didn't find. There are detailed records of every child in that family, but Erik. Yes, he had a birth certificate, but it wasn't kept in the public records, at least not until late in the twentieth century. It seems that this birth certificate was found, when the descendants went through the family's private files."

"I know for a certainty that wasn't in the original history, because this info was not available three hours ago," Al jumped in, straightening his shirt.

"Yes, but, that's not all, Calavicci. Every baby at that time, especially nobility, was given a christening. Four out of the five children had baptismal dates and confirmations. Erik, of course, was the one who didn't. So, Erik's name obviously was not given to him by the church."

"Poor kid, he wasn't even acknowledged as a worthy human being," Al said, shaking his head. "And that's only a glimpse of what life was probably like for him. Did you find out anything else?"

"No, I think I bled Ziggy dry," Marie smiled despite the serious conversation.

Al grinned back, "Well, Gushi and I will continue to look into it, and let me know if you find out any more from Erik. You will have another session with him tomorrow, right."

Marie shivered, despite the warmth in the room. "Yes, about two o'clock. I hope to get more information on the three women in his life. Maybe that will open him up to talking about his mother."

Marie nodded at him in conclusion of the discussion and stood. The admiral stood up as well, looking at her observantly. As Marie turned to leave, Al suddenly spoke, breaking the mutual silence.

"Dr. Felder, are you all right, you seem different somehow."

Marie turned around and gave Al a look of confusion. Al stared into her green eyes and nearly jumped at what he saw.

"I don't know Felder, you just seem softer somehow, looser. Like you don't have the weight of the world on your shoulders." _Or a chip, _Al thought silently.

Startled realization crossed Marie's contoured face. And as quickly as it appeared it was gone, replaced with cynicism.

"Oh my God, thanks for the warning Calavicci. I will try to overcome this recent affliction. Last thing I want to do is destroy my reputation as a psycho, homicidal fish."

She laughed evilly and closed the door just as Al's mouth curled up into a smirk. The facade died the moment the click of the door latch sounded. Marie's smile fell as she walked down the long hallway, toward the exit doors. She passed a set of mirrors and stopped to study herself. Her hair had fallen almost completely out of her bun, accentuating her high cheekbones. She took the clip out of her hair, noticing the rest of her appearance. Her eyes were large and full of expression, almost vivacious. Her mouth was relaxed and pouted, instead of the usual stern and thin line it was usually in.

"No, no," she said aloud, shaking her head as she walked away. "I will not let it happen again!" The heavy doors closed behind her, leaving the mirrors vacant and alone.


	13. Games of Make Believe

**Games Of Make Believe**

**Sometime in the present, New Mexico**

**(Outside of Marie's apartment)**

Marie felt the chill of the night air as she stepped out of her Honda Accord. The whole drive home her thoughts had wandered to the skeletons of her past, the confusion of her presence, and the uncertainty of her future. She couldn't believe her actions earlier that evening. Throwing a child like tantrum and running out of the project's building like some freak on drugs. She must have given quite a performance for the security team, under the watchful lenses of the cameras.

She shook her head as she made her way to her three bedroom condo. She took her keys out of her purse, wondering why she allowed her sister to convince her to buy such a large place. Six months ago, she had wanted to move out of her nice, yet quite small, one bedroom apartment. Her younger sister, Nicky, had been tagging along while she hunted for a larger residence. When Marie had said larger, she was thinking: two bedroom, two bath, and sixteen hundred square feet all together. Nicky's idea of larger was: four bedroom, three bath, and two thousand square feet. With convenient jacuzzi access for when her dear sister came to visit from California.

Though, she couldn't blame her sister entirely. She had to admit, the moment she saw her presently owned home, she had fallen in love with it. She approached her french, double doors, keys dangling from her fingertips. Just as she was about to put her key in the lock, a shadow from behind her, loomed over her. It took less than two seconds to grab the mace from her purse and whirl around in an attack position.

"Whoa, whoa," the shadow said. "I come in peace."

Recognizing the voice, Marie lowered the mace, dropping it in her open purse. Her eyes darkened the angrier she became. "Jason, what the hell are you doing lurking in the shadows?! You scared me half to death you son of a..."

"Hey, hey, I am sorry. I wanted to see you. I heard about your Father. I wanted to give you my sympathies on his death."

He had now come out of the shadows, into the porch lighting. His dark hair was tussled by the wind, and his intense, blue eyes pulled her in, despite her bitterness. He always had that affect on her, even now, four months after the breakup, Marie was feeling the effects. The concern in his eyes didn't help her emotional turmoil anymore so.

Shaking off her feelings of imagined weakness, she straightened up to her full height and looked up at him. Despite his 6'2" build, he never made her, or anyone else for that matter, feel threatened. His eyes were always soft and warm, and he seemed to have laughter in his voice, constantly. He could always make her laugh. Not to say that he didn't have a temper flowing through that scottish blood of his. They had many passionate arguments, along with very passionate make up sessions.

_Things were just too perfect, it was better this way. They would have have just ended up hurting each other. There is no such thing as happily ever after. Besides, if you don't fall in love you can't get hurt. _

Jason's eyes went from passionate to concerned in a flash. "Marie, are you all right?"

He reached an arm out and caressed her shoulder, shaking her out of her musings.

"Yeah, I'm okay, Jason. I am just taking it day by day." She took a step back, away from his touch. Trying to ignore the hurt in his eyes she continued. "Thank you for coming by, Jason. I am sorry, I am very tired. I need to rest." Marie took her keys out of the now unlocked door and put a foot inside, before Jason's voice stopped her.

"You think everything is fixed just by taking a rest, Marie. That's your philosophy not only on your health, but on your relationships too."

"This just proves that shrinks should never date fellow shrinks. If I answer, will you charge me," she replied curtly.

"I don't charge royalty, oh, awesome Snow Queen." Jason clamped his mouth shut, his eyes expressing the harshness of his statement.

The silence stretched out before them, much like the sea when the tide is in. Marie's hand was frozen on the knob, like it was her life support. Her eyes scanned her shoes and then his, noticing the scuffs on her heals and his sneakers. So different, and yet, very similar flaws.

"Give my regards to your mother and sister." With that Jason turned and left, the sound of his shoes echoing on the sidewalk, vibrating in Marie's already pounding head.

Marie crossed the threshold, closing the door quietly. She passed her three piece, ivory furniture, made a sharp left at her impeccable dining room, and walked through the door of her safe haven. Marie sat down on her bed, in the pitch dark of her room. The cranberry colored comforter seemed to wrap around her legs, as she let her weight sink into the mattress. She slowly took off her shoes, setting them neatly by her dresser.

She started to unbutton her top, only to stop at the third button. She lay back, curling her legs behind her in the fetal position. Her eyes tried to fight the tears that were slowly making their way past her eyelids.

_He'll always be there, singing songs in my head. He'll always be there singing songs..._

**December 2, 1890**

**Paris, France**

"Oh, this chocolate mousse is to die for," Meg uttered.

She took another bite as she looked at her two companions at the table. Raoul was starring at Christine, looking at her with a mixture of contempt, and oddly, admiration. Christine was starring at, nothing. She stirred the cream and sugar around in her tea, all the while humming unconsciously

The nearly empty cafe they were in was warm and cozy, a sharp contrast to the cold, frosty weather outside. The sun had finally come out, shining and reflecting off the snow covered streets. Inside, the surroundings were comfortable, not at all like the high class establishments that no doubt, Raoul was used to. The waiters were humble and friendly. The table linens were clean, but somewhat worn. The china looked old and close to retirement. Instead of diminishing its allure, it added to it.

Meg put her spoon down and cleared her throat, seeing if she could get her friend's attention.

"Christine, your hair is on fire," Meg started.

Meg looked at Raoul, smiling at him. She could see he tried to return it, but, all he could do was scowl. Christine sighed in answer, all the while stirring her tea. The spoon clinked against the sides of it, wearing on Raoul's and Meg's nerves. Raoul's hand moved as quick as lightning, enclosing it over Christine's hand and cup.

"Are you trying to serenade us with your musical tea cup routine, Christine." The Vicomte smiled at her, though the venom in his words didn't go unnoticed by either of the women.

Christine's cheeks flushed, embarrassed that she allowed her emotions to be so readable.

"I am sorry to you, both. I suppose I am just excited about the masquerade ball," Christine answered.

Meg looked into her friend's eyes, seeing her obvious lie. She looked over at Raoul, his face was expressionless. She wondered how much the Vicomte knew. Maybe those hazel eyes were aware of more than they let on. Raoul stayed silent, which enticed Meg to speak up.

"So, what are you two, going as."

"Dominoes," Christine piped up.

"Nothing," Raoul said at the same time.

"What, and when did we decide this," Christine replied, confusion in her eyes.

Meg shifted uncomfortably in her seat, interrupting she said, nervously, "I am going as an angel."

"We is plural, Christine, which would imply an agreed upon decision. I decided."

Meg continued,"Mama thinks it's a swan, but, I like the idea of angels on earth. I told her, angel it has to be."

The two ignored the ballerina as Christine added to the confrontation.

"Oh, excuse me Monsieur De Chagney, I had not realized the Master had spoken."

"It's pure white, of course, I guess that would make sense, considering it's an angel costume," Meg giggled, resolve slowly declining.

"Well, I didn't think you had a problem being submissive to dark, masterful men," Raoul snapped.

Christine looked quickly at Meg, sympathy quickly washing over her at Meg's position. Anger quickly replaced it when she looked at her suitor.

"Why don't we talk about what's really bothering you, Raoul. This is obviously not about a costume. It's about your obvious inferiority complex."

"I don't think it is awful that I don't have an escort to the ball, do you?" Meg asked?

"No, Christine, it is about the costumes. I don't want to make believe. There seems to be a lot of that going on lately."

Raoul, stood up abruptly, giving the two of them a mock bow, he made to leave. But, before he did, he turned to Meg and said, "No, Meg, it's not awful that you don't have a suitor to take you to the Masque. In fact, it will save you a lot of irritation and frustration."

Raoul quickly put some franks on the table and left.

"That jerk just left us here. Excuse me dear, I will return shortly ." Christine patted Meg's hand and left the table, quickly following him.

"Raoul, we are not finished discussing this." Her blue dress billowed behind her as she skirted past a waiter.

The waiter approached the nearly vacant table and started to clear it. He picked up the money and said to Meg,"Anything else I may do for you, Mademoiselle?"

"Yes, actually, there is. Are normal friends on the menu?"


	14. Stranger Than You Dreamt It

**Stranger Than You Dreamt It**

**Author's Note: Okay Folks, we are now up to the night of the ball. I hope you enjoy and apologize for the delay of this chapter. Oh, and reviews are always appreciated.**

Sam looked around him. In place of his warm bed was a hard floor beneath him. Looking up, he found rusted bars. His vision clouded, as his ears picked up the sound of rustling fabric. He heard voices. Loud unrestrained ones, that sent shivers up his spine. Dread poured over Sam like a deluge when he heard a man say, "Come inside, and see the Devil's child."

Sam felt something on his head shift, allowing him clear vision once again. When he saw what was hovering over him, he cringed. A man with dark, long hair and wild eyes looked back at him. Within seconds Sam felt the surging pain of being beaten with a blunt object. He curved his body into the fetal position as his body received the brutal punishment.

Through the holes of what Sam now realized was a fabric mask, he saw them. Cruel faces, sneering and laughing at him, making the pain from the beating seem pale in comparison. The mask was ripped away from his face as his head was pulled back by the hair. His face now fully expose to the merciless crowd.

Sam's eyes roamed to the entrance of the tent, his eyes resting on the figure of a woman. Her face was hidden in the shadows, and she stood respectfully quiet. Sam became suddenly aware of a monkey's screeching as the woman's face came into view. Sam's mouth opened in shock, just before he screamed out to her, the sound of his wails blending in with the animal's cries.

"Mom," he screamed, "Mom, Mom, Mommy, please don't leave me!"

Sam sat up in bed, his hands gripping the tangled sheets. He was startled to find that his face was covered in tears. He ripped the sheets off of him and stumbled to the wash basin. He rubbed his wet hands over his face, as the remnants of the dream slowly faded.

"Sam, you look like hell."

He jumped, nearly knocking over the basin.

"Al, I am not in the mood."

When Al saw Sam's pale face and shaking hands, his countenance went from amused to concerned.

"Hey, kid? What's wrong? You look like you have been run over by a train."

Sam sat down abruptly on the side of the bed, resting his forearms on his thighs. Rubbing his hands together, he looked up at Al.

"I, he, had a nightmare. It was so vivid and so traumatizing. The memory, haunts me. God, no wonder the man is so messed up. Al, they caged and beat him." He said it like he had a bad taste in his mouth, grimacing at his own words. "They laughed at me, him."

"Woe, Sam. Take a deep breath."

Sam complied, acting more like a patient than the doctor with several phd's.

"Sam, this is obviously a very deep seeded issue with our Phantom. We have all been working hard to get answers. In fact Dr. Felder has come up with some very interesting info," Al trailed off. Sam looked up at him, seeing the look of terrified fascination. "That can't be what I think it is."

Sam looked in the direction his friend was starring. There he saw **the man's** coffin, looking very intimidating in the darkened corner.

"Is that the Phantom's coffin," Al asked in a superstitious voice.

"No, it's a black, lined, toybox, Al." Before Al could retort Sam continued, "So, what is this information that Marie found?"

Al bit back a smart ass reply and went on to relay the facts that Marie had found. When Al was finished, Sam had the look of a man who had just found out he had inherited millions.

"Al," Sam exclaimed, jumping up from the bed, "If what you say is true, this could be a major breakthrough. Of course, it could be one of many. The question is, if Erik is related to Raoul, how much do either of them know? Does Raoul know he had a brother that was basically disowned because of his disfigurement. If Erik knows about Raoul, God help us. He already hates the kid because of Christine, this information would cause so much resentment."

"That's an understatement, Sam. Though, I really doubt how Erik would know, considering that he probably left before the kid was even conceived. Then again, this is the infamous OG. I am telling you, Sam, that guy gives me the creeps. Leroux wasn't lying when he mentioned this guy was a little short circuited." Al shuttered, as he watched Sam pace back and forth.

"So, how is Felder doing getting information out of him," Sam asked.

"Well, if this tells you anything, it's easier for her to get a squawk out of Ziggy than it is for her to get it out of Erik. I think he has having an easier time getting Barracuda to loosen up."

"What, you have got to be kidding. She once scared a rabid dog into a pitiful, whining puppy." Sam looked at Al incredulously, as the latter grinned at the joke.

"Look kid, I have to get back. Marie will have a session with him today. I will let you know if we find out anything more. Let me know how the Masquerade goes."

Al opened the door of the chamber just as Sam yelled in a panicked voice, "What Masquerade?"

"Um, the one that's being thrown tonight, up in the opera house. Ziggy says your costume is hanging on a chair near the piano. I guess that would be considered the living room." Al finished casually, as if talking about the weather.

"Al, I have no idea what the hell I'm suppose to do there. I am trying to avoid trouble, not chase it."

Al closed the door, and walked toward Sam.

"Sam, lay low. Sneak around and do the whole phantom thing. Trust your gut, go with your instincts. Now go out there and get em." Al gave a mocking smile and once again opened the door, ignoring Sam's cynical expression. "And Sam, just get in touch with your inner opera ghost, well, not too much." Al gave Sam a knowing nod as he disappeared.

Sam, now calm and no longer tired, walked around the lair, looking for his costume. Sam once again took in all the papers, masks, and diagrams thrown everywhere. _My God, this guy is a real pig, _Sam thought. He finally spotted the chair next to a miniature set of the opera stage. That's when he saw, red. He stretched out his hand and picked up the costume like it was diseased.

"There is no way in hell I am wearing that!

* * *

**Madame Giry's Bedroom**

"Marguerite, you look positively radiant."

"Thank you, Mama. I really could use the compliment right now," Meg replied, straitening her halo. She looked at herself in the mirror, smoothing out her white dress.

Her mother came up behind her and began to attach her wings to the back of her bodice. They were silent for a few moments until Madame Giry spoke.

"A penny for your thoughts," Madame Giry said soothingly.

"Oh, I guess I am just a little wistful about tonight. I feel like tonight is a defining moment in my life. I have grown up with everyone's eyes upon me, waiting for me to fail. I have never been more than a chorus girl, Mother. I do not have the talent that _some_ do. I feel like there has been a standard set that I can never live up too."

Madame Giry was about to interrupt when Meg said, "Look at me, Mother. I am a nineteen year old woman who can't even get an escort to the Masque."

Antoinette took a strand of her long brown hair and casually twirled it. An action she hadn't done since she was a young girl. Meg could see the wheels in her Mother's head turning. The latter began to pace the floor in short, graceful steps. Steps not of a costume designer, but of a a ballerina. Movements that had not been forgotten from her days of dance. She elegantly approached her daughter, turning her away from the mirror to face her.

"Meg, darling, that is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. You are beautiful, capable, and talented. And the fact that the only men you have available to you are either, lechers, old, married, or all of the above, speaks volumes about your single status. If you are so worried, you could always ask Buquet to escort you."

Meg snorted in disgust, breaking out in a smile when she saw the laugher in her Mother's eyes. Meg reached her arms around her Mother, as the latter awkwardly tried to work around her daughter's wings. Antoinette pulled back and touched her daughter's face with her warm hand. Just then the wall clock struck six.

"My goodness, it's getting late. I must be getting ready myself. Now remember Marguerite, shoulders back, head high, and for pity's sake, stop feeling sorry for yourself."

Madame Giry disappeared into the powder room, Meg shivered at the slight breeze it caused.

"Yes Mama: lechers, ancients, wedded, and those in love with my best friend" Meg whispered to herself.


	15. Lay Your Cards Out

**Author's Note: Oh my Gosh. I can't believe how long its been since I have posted. Forgive me for the long wait. These last few months have been crazy, and to top it off, my computer crashed last week. So, I had to reboot the whole system. If it hadn't been for that this would have been posted a little sooner. I hope you guys haven't lost interest in my tale. Oh, we are on the night of the Masquerade, but, unfortunatley the actual ball won't be covered till the next chapter. Okay, I will stop babbling.**

**Lay Your Cards Out**

Marie took a deep breath, as she ran her hands through her blonde tresses. She was in the bathroom right off of her office, trying to shake off her feeling of dysphoria. She looked at the image in the mirror looking back at her. She didn't even recognize herself. Her normally clear, brown eyes were blood shot, accompanied by underlying dark circles. Her skin was abnormally pale and chalky, and her normally spotless appearance was replaced by a rumpled suit that was slept in.

_Stop doing this to yourself, Felder. Stop being a pathetic, weakling. So it didn't work out with Jason, so your Father was an ignorant, selfish jerk. So you will probably end up alone with a house full of cats that you talk to. Things could be a lot worse. _

Dr Felder was startled out of her musings by her office door banging open and an irritated voice.

"Felder! You have to do something with that homicidal masked, hermit. I'm through trying to bond with that ass hole."

Marie shook her head and glanced back into the mirror. _And then the heavens opened up and God said, "I hate you Marie." _

Erik hummed the enchanting melody out loud. It had seemed for too long since he had worked on his masterpiece. As the piece wafted from his lips he closed his eyes and envisioned the notes in his mind. The song started getting more frenzied and chaotic, when suddenly he just stopped.

"So, what do you think of the Devil's music, child."

"I don't know if a simple adjective could possibly describe that melody, Erik." Dr. Felder stared at his back, seemingly not even making a slight move towards her. "It was, hauntingly beautiful and yet, so blatantly ugly." Marie smoothed out her skirt, shaking her head at her foolish attempt at poise.

Erik finally turned around, his soulful eyes once again burning into hers.

"You know, Erik," she started, trying not to feel intimidated by his gaze, "I think people would enjoy being around you a lot more if you weren't so angry all the time"

"Well, who says I would want to be around _them,_ Doctor?" Erik started strolling toward her and stopped when only a foot away.

"Besides, who wants to be around the Devil's Child."

"_Them _Erik, was it _them, _who called you that vicious name?" Marie chewed on her lower lip, welcoming as well as dreading his answer.

"Oh, don't play mind games with me, Felder."

He started to circle her, his main defense of intimidation.

Felder, refusing to give in, despite the shivers up her spine, kept her face to him at all times. She turned as he did, as if they were dancing without music.

"And don't play domination games with me, either, Mousier." Her eyes returned his challenge, her stance, assertive.

Erik took a step back, trying to hide the fact that he was impressed by her strength.

Suddenly he laughed, not sinisterly, just exasperatingly. "Well, Mademoiselle. I guess we have hit a brick wall. I think we are finished here, Doctor."

He started to walk away, his cool facade even fooling the smart doctor.

She wasn't giving up that easily, she walked briskly after him.

"So is that all, Erik? Are you just going to give up because of _them? _Are you going to give them the satisfaction of winning? Don't you want to prove, show them that you are not the Devil's child. That you Erik De Chagney, are a composer, architect, artist, magician, and a tutor for two very talented women."

Dr. Felder stopped her tirade, realizing she had gone too far. Mentioning his name and the two women in his life was like laying all her cards out on the table. She waited for the storm, and was more than mildly surprised when it didn't come.

All she saw was a shocked look on Sam's/Erik's face. When he finally did speak his voice was quiet and surprisingly calm.

"How did you know that? No one was suppose to know. There was only three people who knew, and two of them are dead."

Felder had to strain to hear the last part, as anxiety started to unfold for the both of them. She was not used to seeing him like this, and it unnerved her. He was usually so aggressive and possessed an air of control. She now saw a weak, almost lost little boy, like one who had just been caught doing something wrong. She listened as he continued talking, no longer to her, but to himself.

"When they sold me to the gypsies it was like they had sentenced me to death. Even when I was around, I wasn't really. It was always about precious Phillippe, how much he looked like Faher. Oh, how beautiful precious little Phillipe is. Unlike that monstrous thing with no face. Here Erik, wear the mask, that way people won't see that I conceived the Devil's son!"

Erik's ranting became louder, alarming even more the now forgotten psychiatrist. As Erik revealed more than he probably consciously wanted, Marie's mind whirled. _So, he does know about his family history! I can't imagine the pain he must of felt when he lost his friend ,pupil, and possibly, Love to his handsome, successful brother. That poor little boy must have been angry and hurt over the lack of love his own parents showed. No wonder the man before me became a masked monster._

Words still rolled off of the Phantom's tongue, trying to unlock and release the repressed hurt feelings of his younger self. Doctor Felder approached him slowly, her body moving on its own accord.

"Erik, Erik," she repeated in a sweet voice, trying to get his attention, to get him out of the painful memories. She couldn't understand it, why was she, of all people, feeling such hurt for him, empathy. Almost relating to him. Despite these unwanted feeling she found herself reaching her hand out to her patient's shoulder. Finally, she reached her goal, and she touched him, which stopped his ranting instantly. He shrugged her off of him and stepping back, gave her a confused look.

"If you haven't already noticed Doctor, I am not the touchy, affectionate type. So keep that cuddly woman stuff to yourself. Yes, I have to sit back and watch my woman be courted by my brother who doesn't even know I exist. Yes, I can't even come forward to accept the title that is rightfully mine because of my face. What would make my fate complete is to have my other student marry my other brother. One big happy family, right. Hell, I will probably be known as deformed Uncle Erik by their children, and the joke of family gatherings. They wouldn't even need entertainment, they could always peek at my snout for their enjoyment."

"Oh, Erik, will you just shut up about your face. Don't you realize what others believe about you, will only reflect what you feel about yourself. Love yourself Erik, and others will too. Yes, their will still be the ignorant few who will treat you like scum. But, that's when you've just got to think, 'Screw the world.'

Erik walked elegantly in her direction and stopped directly in front of her. Anger permeated his body and flew out his mouth with his words.

"Ms. Felder, in your 21st century world, that may work just fine. But, in the nineteenth century, you could be violently attacked for walking with a limp. You're advise is naive and foolish, and if I dare say, hypocritical."

He walked briskly away from her.

"What do you mean hypocritical?" Marie chased after him, her own anger starting to rise.

Erik mockingly leaned forward, as if emphasizing their height difference. "Marie Felder, who hurt you in your youth, hmm?"

Marie stepped back startled by his question. "What," she asked dumbly.

He continued, his voice cynical and patronizing. "You are so hard, love, so cynical and bitter for someone so young. I have an excuse. But, what does a beautiful young woman such as yourself have." He lifted her chin with his pointer finger and looked searching at her face.

She shrugged him off, much like he did to her moments earlier. "This is not about me, this is about you. You're messed up parents, your jealousy, your..."

She stopped realizing that for the second time that day, she said something without thinking. Once again, very out of character for her. She suddenly felt like a teenager again, rather than the self sufficient, strong, no nonsense barracuda.

"And why do I get the feeling," he continued, "You are afraid of men." He placed his hands on her shoulder, causing electrical currents to once again pulse through her body.

"Or maybe, Mademoiselle, you just hate men."

Marie Felder came back, eyes return to blazing orbs. "Oh, Doctor Freud would love you OG. I didn't know you were such an expert on women, after all you do live in a sewer.I am declaring are session over for today, Erik. We have covered more than enough ground for one day."

"But, My Lady, I was just getting started." Erik gave her a mocking bow as the door opened and she disappeared out of it.


	16. There's Another Mask Behind You

**There's Another Mask Behind You**

**Author's Note: Everything in bold italics is taken from Webber's Masquerade sequence. **

**This chapter is dedicated to Lester, a great man whose life was cut short. You will be always be in our thoughts, dear friend.**

**December 3rd, 1890 10:45 pm**

Christine looked across at Raoul, or rather, glared across at him. He was dancing with another bimbo, he was clearly trying to make a point. Mainly, that he is an idiot. She drummed her fingers on the banister of the stairs; rolling her eyes at a gentleman's rather obvious roaming eyes in her direction.

"Christine, if you drum your fingers any harder they will bleed."

"Meg," Christine turned around and greeted her friend. "Wow, you look beautiful. Most definitely an angel's costume."

"Thank you, my friend. And you are dressed to kill, kind of revealing, who are you out to slaughter?" Meg giggled, and noticed her glaring across the room. She followed her eyes to find Raoul, hanging all over Sorelli, of all people. Meg swallowed hard. "Um, so you decided against the costume."

"Of course, I didn't see dressing as a lone dominoe."

"Christine, why don't you talk to Raoul." She was interrupted by a look of disgust on Christine's face. "Chris, come on, I'm not saying to beg for forgiveness. You can yell, scream, or stay calm in stoic control. Just keep the communication flowing. That's what Momma always says. We can be fuming at each other, but Madame and I always talk."

"Well, Marguerite, your Mother is far more intelligent than that monkey over there. At least she doesn't grunt or peel bananas with her feet. Excuse me, I have to go powder my nose."

Meg shook her head as she saw her friend stroll across the room, glaring at Sorelli as she passed. Before she lost the nerve, she walked briskly over to Raoul and said, "Excuse me Sorelli, I am going to steel him for a few moments."

Raoul's eyes grew big in confusion as she drug him out to the dance floor. "Dance with me," she commanded.

Raoul opened his mouth to argue, but seeing the urgent look in her eyes he complied. He drew her into his arms and began a slow waltz. Meg was quite for a moment as she took in his appearance. His dark blonde hair was carefully combed and tied back. His tall, lean body was wrapped in an elegant, black suit. He looked just like a Viscount shout, utterly handsome.

Finally she spoke, her words soft, yet firm. "Raoul, would you cut out the attitude and dance with Christine. She really cares for you and I think you hurt her."

Meg winced as Raoul's grip on her hand tightened.

"Meg," Raoul started, pulling her by the waist, as he turned with the music, "Didn't you stop to think that she could have hurt me. Every time I look her direction I see her eyes dreaming of that thing."

Meg's temper flashed at the insult he directed at the Phantom, and just about told him off until she saw the expression on his face. A look of failure flashed in his eyes, their normal look of confidence was gone.

"Meg, I am loosing her."

Meg searched his face, seeing sincerity. She reached out her hand and touched his cheek, uncertain at what possessed her to do so. She softly consoled, "It's not too late, Raoul. You can save your relationship with her. But, first, you need to figure out yourself, before you can figure out you and Christine."

Raoul suddenly moved his hand up and held her hand at his face. Something swept in his eyes, and as quickly as it had come it faded. Suddenly his body seemed just a little too close. His voice was barely over a whisper as he replied, "And what about you, sweet Meg? Have you figured yourself out?"

Meg slowly moved her hand from his face as he let go of hers. She looked at him and was just about to reply when both of them jumped about two feet out of their skin. The quiet music suddenly changed to that of the loud song, Masquerade. Raoul suddenly let go of Meg as a red head swept him away into the swift dance, giving Meg a dirty look in the process.

Meg turned around to find Christine starring at her, a look of uncertainty and anger on her face. Christine approached with an assertive stride. "Meg, please tell that was just a dance between friends."

Meg tried to reply, but was then swept away by a man in a spanish dancer's costume. Christine continued to stare at the spot where Meg had stood, as the whirling dancers clouded her vision. Some where, a clock struck 1:00.

* * *

**December 3rd, 1890 11:00 pm**

Sam sneaked along the secret passages of the opera house. The very snug suit clung to him like a second skin, the fedora hat blocked his field of vision. He stumbled once again, muttering to himself.

"For someone who has such supposed low body image, he sure likes showing it off. Oh, this damn hat," he said aloud. He scratched his chin fiercely, as the long red feather continued to tickle him.

"Okay, I refuse to wear this thing!" He threw the hat off, as he quickened his pace. He was trying to find the lobby, where the ball was. He had no idea what he was supposed to do when he got there, but, he had a feeling Erik would take care of that.

Fear and excitement gripped Sam, the unknown loomed in front of him like a darkening skyline. The script of _**Don Juan**_ was clutched in his hand. He didn't know what had possessed him to grab the man's masterpiece, but, he felt he needed it. Like a dueler needed his sword.

The sound of music drifted around him, sounding closer by the second. He knew he was close. He turned a sharp corner and noticed another trap door.

_Oh, how very convenient. _Sam inched toward it, trying to figure out his next move. He was so distracted he didn't even notice he was humming along to the music coming from just the other side of the trap door.

* * *

**December 3rd, 1890 11:30 pm**

_**Masquerade! Paper faces on parade! Masquerade! Hide your face so the world will never find you!**_

Madame Giry looked up at the dancers on the staircase, the lyrics of the song dancing in her mind. She looked around her, wondering if or when the Phantom would appear. It had been a week of quiet and peace, but she felt the storm was about to hit. In more ways than one. She looked at her daughter standing next to her. Meg's eyes were also scanning the room. For what, Madame Giry could only speculate.

She had seen the conflict between Meg and her dearest friend. Standing across from each other, as if about ready to start a duel. She could only hope that it wasn't over of all things, a man. She shook herself out of her thoughts as the final notes of Masquerade were sung out.

_**Masquerade! Take your fill, let the spectacle astound you!**_

_He has arrived at last._

* * *

**December 3rd, 1890 11:45 pm**

Christine's face drained of color as she looked up at the face of her mentor. His costume screamed Edgar Allen Poe. Dressed as Red Death, Erik was fittingly intimidating, with a twisted feel of sensuality about him. Christine couldn't look away as he started to descend the stairs. His voice wrapped around her like a cloak, and she was lost.

* * *

**December 3rd, 11:48 pm**

_**Fondest greetings to you all, a few instructions just before rehearsal starts.**_

Meg looked up at the Phantom's imposing figure, her heart in rhythm with every step he took. A sense of dread came over her as he addressed the guests. She couldn't even find satisfaction in Erik's obvious insults to Carlotta and Piangi.

_**As for our star, Miss Christine Daae,**_ his eyes locked with Meg's for a second, causing her to nearly gasp out a held breath.

_**No doubt she'll do her best, it's true her voice is good. She knows though, should she wish to excel, she has much still to learn, if pride will let her return to me, her teacher, **__**her teacher...**_

Meg looked on as Erik's eyes locked with Christine's, their bodies moving toward each other, as if in a trance. Meg couldn't bring herself to look away, though she felt like her emotions were on a merry-go-round. What did Meg feel; awe, an odd sense of protectiveness,(for which one of them?), and dare say, jealousy.

Now they were right in front of each other, like a King choosing his Queen. Suddenly, the deathly, quiet room was startled out of its resign with, _**Your chains are still mine, you will sing for me.**_

Meg watched him as he stalked up the stairs, cape billowing after him. When he reached the platform, their was a red puff of smoke as he disappeared. Raoul appeared out of no-where, striving to follow where the phantom had gone. The trap door closed quickly, leaving Raoul to stare down at it in frustration. Not far away, a dark man dressed in black, observed unnoticed by the partygoers.

* * *

**Present Day-Project Site**

Marie jingled her car keys as she walked through the project's grounds. She was still frazzled from her encounter with Erik, and really needed a beer. She walked past the exam room when the door suddenly opened. Out walked Al, looking white as a ghost.

"Admiral, what's wrong?" Marie quickly approached him, noticing the worry in his eyes.

She stopped about two feet away from him, scanning his face for answers.

"I just spoke with Sam," Al replied quietly.

"When, and why am I sensing it was less than a carefree encounter."

"Dr. Felder. I spoke with Sam in the exam room."

Marie eyes widened, "You mean Dr. Beckett is back."

"Was, more or less. But, our Opera Ghost is now back, and in full Phantom mode."

Enlightenment washed over Marie's face, and then concern. "The Phantom took over Sam's mind again, didn't he?"

Al nodded and said, "Marie, if we don't get through to the Phantom soon, I am afraid of what he may make Sam do."

Marie saw Al's pleading face and then watched as he touched her upper arm in entreaty.

"Doctor, I have tried, God knows Sam is trying. I have faith in him to get through this, Felder, I really do. He hasn't let us down, yet. But, this Erik is a strong opponent, and we need help. Marie, you are our last hope.

Marie let out a breath she was holding, she nodded as she walked away from him.

She turned around and said, "No pressure, right?"

* * *

**December 4th, 1890 12:35 am**

Christine walked along the dark hallways in the dormitory. She was still dressed in her ball gown and more melancholy than before. She remembered the feel of her angel's hand at her chest, the gentle yet angry hold on her necklace. That look that Raoul had on his face after he had missed the Phantom by scant seconds.

She had escaped the shocked crowds, so she could seek solace in private. She now thought about Meg, her dearest friend. What were her intentions with Raoul? Was she acting as a friend to both of them, or was Meg after something else? If she was after that something else, how did Christine feel about it?

What worried Christine most was that she didn't know. Suddenly, a hand went over her mouth. She could smell the brandy on his breath as Buquet spoke in her ear.

"Hello, mademoiselle. I must say you look breathtaking tonight."

Christine struggled as Buquet held her against him moving his hands over her body. When her attempt to scream failed she tried to bite his hand. He turned her around so hard that he nearly gave her whip lash. His face was inches from hers and he said icily, "I think we can put that mouth of yours to much better use."

Christine's eyes widened as his mouth was upon hers. She managed to get enough space between them as she kicked him in the groin. He howled in pain as Christine started to run. It didn't take long for Buquet to get up again and chase after her.

"You are going to pay for that, bitch!"

Christine found that strong voice of her's and screamed.

* * *

**Dec 4th, 1890 12:30 am**

Sam's head was pounding. He was now in the dark passageways near the dormitories. Sam was now Sam, and he was trying to piece together what had happened. He pulled the chain out of his pocket and looked at the ring attached to it. He remembered reading that a ring that hung from a woman's neck usually meant she was either promised, or engaged to someone.

Could Christine be engaged to Raoul? If she was, should Sam try to stop it? Was she meant to be with Erik, or was she with the man she was supposed to be with, Raoul? Maybe Sam wasn't sent here to be a matchmaker. Maybe he was here to help Erik heal. Maybe, Erik shouldn't have a relationship with anyone. After all, the man is in need of some serious therapy. Like one hundred years worth.

Sam stopped short when he heard a scream. He started to run in its direction, somehow knowing whose voice box the scream belonged to. He ran across the floor boards, silently, as if the Phantom were giving him wings. He suddenly slipped behind a beam, when he saw the sight before him. There was Raoul, holding Christine as she cried into his shoulder. Next to them lay Joseph Buquet, passed out on the floor. Most likely a combination of the alcohol and the fist to his face that had knocked him down.

Raoul's voice echoed through the hallways as he said, "It's okay my love, it's okay."

Then he heard Christine reply in a suddenly strong voice, "Raoul, I don't know, will it ever be okay?"

"He won't be bothering you anymore, Christine. I will see to it that he is out of here by morning. He won't be back."

_Of course, this is the nineteenth century, women didn't have a case against bastards like that. _Sam seethed inside at the injustice of it. He watched as the two of them walked away, Raoul's body was stiff and alert, as if ready to protect the woman next to him at any sign of controversy.

After they disappeared behind a corner, Sam approached Buquet quietly. _Kill him, kill him._ Sam grabbed his still pounding head, struggling to ignore the voice. _Please, Erik, __don't do this. Please!_ Sam struggled with Erik's personage, walking away from Buquet, his legs felt like they weighed a hundred pounds a piece. With every step, Sam's headache gradually subsided, along with the voice.

He started his trek back to the lair, his steps light, his shoulders heavy.


	17. Paper Faces On Parade

**Paper Faces On Parade**

**Author's Note: Okay, it has definitely been a long time. But, to make it up to everyone I have written a super, long chapter. There is quite a bit of angst in this chapter, just like the last one. But, I added a little fluff to balance it out a little bit.**

**December 4th 1890 12:45 am**

_What am I doing here? _Meg walked down the dark passageway, holding back a scream as a rat scurried past her. She was still in her angel/swan costume, now dirty and wet from the damp underground. She hadn't known what possessed her to sneak to Christine's dressing room and take the secret passage. After Erik had disappeared, she had a strange sense of doom. She had to go to him, to see him. She hadn't spoken to her friend in weeks, it was time.

A fork in the passage came up as she _gracefully_ made a right turn. She still had her wits about her, yet she felt she was being pulled to her destination. Whether it was all in her mind or not, she wouldn't ignore it. The closer she came to the lair, oddly, the calmer she felt. As she approached the lake she made a sudden left. To avoid looking like a drowned rat by swimming across, she would take the secret door in the rock foundation. She would come in the west side of the lair, also avoiding a certain trap. Oh, how she wished he would destroy that cave of torture.

She knew, deep down, that he was capable of so much better. The question was, does he know, and if so, will he escape the darkness within him to even try?

* * *

**December 4th, 1890 1:00 am**

Sam finally reached the lair, his mind more troubled than when he had left it. He tried to recall what had happened at the ball. Erik had been the main persona the whole time, so it was a little fuzzy. He had remembered there was quite a bit of tension in that room. Mostly, he remembered Erik's emotions. He was so passionate, his anger only had fueled it. What he had been angry about, Sam was not certain.

Was Christine the object of his anger, or was there more to it than that. Would Erik ever have any peace of mind? He stopped his musings when he heard a noise. He didn't have to wonder for long, for it was followed by a huge crash. He ran from the phantom's bedroom to the _'music room'_.

"Shhh!"

Sam held back a laugh as he saw the Giry girl, hushing at the piano seat that had fallen over. Sam hid in the shadows as Meg hurriedly picked up the seat and the spilled papers.

"May I help you, Mademoiselle Giry," Sam/Erik said in a soft, deep voice.

Meg, startled, yelped and threw the retrieved papers in the air.

"Oh, Monsieur Phantom, um, I mean Erik, I mean." Sam listened with great amusement to Meg's babbling as she tried to regain her composure. She started grabbing at the papers as she stammered for coherent words.

"You see, I was concerned and I saw that you fell into the floor, well actually jumped,"

Meg continued to pick up the papers, failing miserably as each one fell once again out of her hands.

"So," she continued, "I wanted to make sure you were okay," Meg bent down from the waist to retrieve another paper when her hip came in contact with the bench and sent it toppling over once again. Meg's face went from pasty, to beet red. Whether it was from embarrassment or frustration, Sam was unsure. When she threw the paper to the ground in obvious irritation, he guessed frustration won out over embarrassment.

Sam, taking pity on her, bent down and grabbed her shaking hands. It's funny at the exact same moment, it felt like the temperature in the room had gone up ten degrees. Sam let go of her trembling hands and started picking up the papers. She followed in sync quietly. After the papers were stacked and the piano bench was upright, Sam/Erik helped Meg to her feet. Once both were standing, they stared at each other silently.

Then, they started to laugh. They laughed merrily like children, with their whole hearts. When the laughing stopped, Meg was the one who finally spoke.

With a sigh she said, "Hello, Erik."

"Meg, welcome. Can't say I didn't here you coming."

* * *

_**New Mexico, Present Day**_

_**Marie's House**_

Marie groaned as she slipped off her shoes. Not in the mood to cook, she had just ordered take out, reveling in the silence of her home. It didn't last long, for the phone rang as she was massaging her sore foot.

"Hello," Marie barked.

"Hey sis, lovely to hear your sweet voice, as usual."

"Well, Nickie girl, you know I save that special greeting just for you."

Marie heard her sister giggle on the other end, had Marie ever been that carefree?

"So, are you going to tell me how your new job is going, or do I have to fly all the way out to Cali and beat it out of you?"

"Oh, Marie, it is absolutely fabulous. It makes me realize how worthwhile it was for me to have changed my major from law to fashion design. This company is a great stepping stone. You wait and see, sis. One day I will have my own business, and my name will be up on billboards."

"Oh, Nickie, I am so pleased. I am sure Mom is too."

"Do you think Dad would have been?

There was a long stretch of silence and then… "Marie, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned him."

"Don't be ridiculous, Nickie. You don't have to walk on egg shells around me. He would have been very proud, Nicole."

"Marie, how have you been doing?"

Marie heard the tone behind that question. It wasn't one of those passing questions someone would ask out of pure politeness. You know, the kind where a person doesn't expect a truthful answer like, "I'm miserable, thanks, and you?" Her question was filled with concern and feeling. Marie, could take anything but that.

"I am fine, Nick. I get by. You know, a barracuda doesn't need support." She tried to push laughter in her voice, but she doubted her sister bought it.

"I bet Jason would disagree with you."

All of the warm feelings she had toward her sister at that moment collapsed as quickly as dominoes do at a slight touch.

"Jason has nothing to do with this conversation, Nicole. I ended it because of that very reason, I don't need his protection. I didn't need it as a child, and I definitely don't need it now! So, why don't you take your pity elsewhere, because, it will not be received from me."

There was silence on the other end, and Marie mentally kicked herself. Not only had she probably hurt her sister, but she had just shown Nickie had struck a nerve. Her sister, was no doubt aware of it, too.

"I love you, Marie. Take care, I will call you later."

With that, the phone line went dead. Marie stared at it a second, as if expecting a voice to suddenly come out of it. She hung up, rubbing her forehead with regret. She was angry, angry at her sister for bringing up an obviously, painful subject. Angry at herself, for loosing her temper with the sister she loved dearly. Angry at Jason for making her feel insecure. She was, '**ding dong,' **jumping about a foot in the air. She shook her head in aggravation as she ran to the front door. Her takeout had arrived.

She opened the door, to find a teenage boy, with a face full of acne, and a tongue ring. It flashed at her as he smacked his gum.

"$16.50, ma'am."

'Smack, smack, smack.' Marie dug into her purse, looking for her cash. 'Smack, smack, smack.' The boy was getting on Marie's last nerve, her hand closed over the mace. Marie counted to ten in her head as her hand dropped the weapon and grabbed the twenty at the bottom of her purse.

"Here you go," she said, as she handed it to him. "Keep the change." The boy's _wandering_ eyes suddenly jumped to attention. Marie stifled the childish urge to roll her eyes as she exchanged the money for her Chinese food.

She was about to shut the door when the crater face kid said, "You call that a tip."

"Oh, I am sorry. You want a better one." She leaned in really close, noticing the boy's obvious discomfort. In a low, seductive voice, she said, "Unless you want to attract a cow, I suggest you don't chew like one."

He gaped at her as she shut the door, she made her way to the kitchen, whistling to herself. It was the first lift to her mood in days.

* * *

**December 4th, 1890 1:20 am**

Sam looked at the blonde girl seated across from him. He had finally managed to scrounge up a chair for her, and killed his back in the process. They didn't have light, folding chairs in the late nineteenth century, unfortunately.

Meg was looking everywhere but in his eyes, her fingers laced together at her lap. She was twisting and turning them like a ballerina twists and turns their body. Go figure.

"I would offer you something to drink, but as you probably know, I am not used to entertaining company."

Meg smiled at him, fingers coming to a stop, the girl was finally starting to relax.

"Oh, I had enough to eat and drink at the ball, I am surprised I was able to squeeze through the passage." Meg laughed lightly, then cleared her throat.

Sam smiled slightly and said "Seriously Meg, why did you come down here?"

Meg's smile faded as the mood became serious. Then she posed a question that Sam wasn't expecting.

"Erik, if you were keeping a secret from a close friend, one that might jeopardize your relationship, would you tell them?"

Sam was taken aback. Was she talking about a secret she was keeping from him, or someone else? The fact that Meg knew the way to the lair, shows that she has, at least, a somewhat close relationship with Erik.

"Well, little one. I would think it all depends on what the secret is? Is the secret life threatening?"

"No, I don't think so." Meg looked at him as she answered. Sam could see a weird expression light her eyes, but couldn't read it.

"Is it something dangerous or that would hurt someone."

"Uh, no."

"Then, I think it would be entirely up to the secret keeper."

Meg looked at him, her blue eyes scanning Erik's hazel ones. She shook her head and said, "I am sorry Erik, but that is the last thing I expected to hear from you. You always seemed to be a man of action, not so conservative with your opinions. Really, that was more a suggestion that a bold answer." Meg's face flushed, despite the cool air of the lair.

It finally dawned on Sam what Meg's expression had meant. It was one of confusion, and surprise. Sam really needed to try to adopt the Phantom's way of speaking as well as his attitude. These girls were smart, they definitely knew something was up. Though he doubted they would ever expect someone from the future had taken Erik's aura and was trying to change history.

"Well, Marguerite. I am a man of many sides." Sam stood up and walked around her, feeling Erik's essence surround him. He stopped in front of her and bent down to meet her gaze. "I can't tell you what to do child, as adults we all have to make decisions based on what we think is right."

Sam, was expecting her to deny that this was about her. What she said next upset him more than it should have.

"Based on what _people_ know of you, Erik, that's not much of a comfort."

Meg slammed her mouth shut, a look of horror came over her face. A look of awareness she had said something she hadn't meant to.

Sam closed his eyes in dread. He fought within himself to gain control, Erik was taking over. Sam was slowly slipping away.

* * *

**December 4th, 1890 1:30 am**

"Christine, will you be okay alone." Raoul helped Christine down into the love seat in her dressing room. She was still shaking, understandably so, yet she tried to maintain her dignity.

"I will be fine, Raoul. Don't worry about me, it is not like anything really happened. It was horrifying, however, it could have been a lot worse."

"Christine, he nearly violated you. I would say you are under acting."

"And I would say you are overreacting." Christine snapped. Raoul's mouth hardened, trying to keep his masculine dignity by not showing any hurt in his eyes.

She sighed and stood on shaky legs, grabbing on to Raoul's arms to steady herself.

"I am sorry, my love. This affected me more than I first thought. I am upset and tired, forgive me."

Raoul kissed her forehead, feeling irritating remorse for the argument they had two days prior. And for his childish behavior at the Masque.

"Christine, about what happened at the ball earlier tonight. I…"

"Raoul," Christine placed her fingertips lightly on his mouth, "lets not talk about that right now. I know you are sorry. I think this is hardly the time to discuss what you or I did. I think I just need to rest."

"All right, good night, Christine." Raoul walked purposefully to the door, when he was stopped by her voice.

"What are you going to do, Raoul?"

"I am going to take out the garbage."

Christine smiled despite the seriousness of it all. "Well, don't give my regards to Buquet.'

Raoul nodded and smiled, as if it was a private joke. He looked at her once more and then exited the room. Christine put her face in her hands. She tried not to think about the night's events, including the encounter with her angel. Her mind was overwhelmed with so many emotions she couldn't even begin to sort through. Tears started to spill from her cheeks, as images of the people she hated as much as she loved entered her mind. Raoul's obvious flirting with other women at the ball to spite her. Erik's intense eyes searching her very soul. Madame Giry's observing countenance, aware of everyone and everything around her. Meg, her dear friend, who had a mixture of guilt and love in her blue eyes.

An unwanted image of Buquet's lecherous eyes and hands moving over her body flashed in her mind. She shivered, and tucked her legs under her arms like a small child.

"Oh, Meg, my friend, I need you here more than ever. You always help me figure things out." Her only answer was the ticking of the clock on the wall.

* * *

**December 4th, 1890 1:45 am**

Meg's feeling of security went away the moment those words came out of her mouth. She knew Erik's temper and yet she pushed his buttons anyway. She rung her fingers, a nervous habit she had since she was a child. She watched as Erik closed his eyes, almost as if he was trying to control himself, which unnerved her even more. She couldn't stand the silence, she would much rather here him screaming at her, than this unbearable silence.

"Erik," she started, not sure how she should continue. He slowly opened his eyes, meeting hers, simultaneously , she eyed the anger.

He stared her down, as if challenging her. Despite the warning bells that were going off in her head, she stared back. His eyes dominated hers into submission. He suddenly spoke, his voice deep and quiet.

"Little Giry, what gives you the authority to make that judgment? Who are you to say my idea of right, is wrong?"

_Because I know you, _Meg thought, but didn't speak aloud. All she could do was look at him. Every second that went by his eyes grew darker and darker. _Does he want me to answer?_

"The things I have seen and experienced would make your toes curl. You can't begin to understand my views of right and wrong, because we are two different people."

Erik was about to continue when Meg grew enough courage to interrupt.

"Erik, I think most would agree that designing a torture chamber is a little more than an eye for an eye. Yes, trespassing on your territory is wrong, but, a torture chamber!"

Erik's eyes flamed, but, Meg continued, knowing that she may never get this opportunity again. She may be dead.

"Erik, you threaten the management of this opera house, terrorize the ballet rats, haunt the dormitories. And don't even get me started on Christine."

Erik stalked toward her and hulled her to her feet. His hands tightened their grip on her arms, causing her to wince.

"Christine has nothing to do with this conversation, don't you dare taint her because of your childish outburst."

Meg's voice was just as quiet as his. She replied, "I wasn't going to, Erik. She's my dearest friend. It's just that, I think she really does care for you, maybe even more than she does, Raoul." At the mention of the Vicomte's name Erik's hands tightened around her arms even more. Oddly, that wasn't what was causing tears to form in her eyes.

"Erik, you often use intimidation with Christine, which is why she is afraid of you. I wish you could just see that all you have to do is sing to her, and you wouldn't have to use force. I know I would come willingly."

Meg saw Erik's gaze soften slightly, along with the grip on her arms.

He finally spoke, his tone softer. "And how about you Marguerite? How do I hurt you?"

She looked up at him, the tears that had gathered finally started to fall. She answered in a whisper, "You don't see me." Meg saw something start to change in Erik's eyes, even more unnerving, in his behavior.

She felt herself being pulled to him as he gathered her in his arms.

"Oh, Meg, I see you. I may not show it, but I do."

At that moment, Meg couldn't have known the true meaning behind his words. She also couldn't see Erik's eyes gradually become clear. Sam was back!

**Author's End Note: The convo between Erik and Meg about secrets is based loosely on a dialogue between Chloe and Lois in an episode of Smallville. Which I do not own. I love that show!**


	18. A Four Sided Triangle

**A Four Sided Triangle**

**Author's Note**: **Hello all! There is quite a few twists and turns in this chapter.**

**Especially involving Raoul. There is quite a bit of angst in this chapter which I actually enjoyed writing. Soon, the angst will fade. Though, the plot won't.**

**Thanks for the reviews everyone.**

**Phantom's Lair - December 4th 1890**

**3:00 am**

Sam sat at the organ, stroking the keys without actually playing them. He had just delivered Meg from his boat to the secret passage, leading to the dormitories. The ride had been quiet, both of them lost in their own thoughts. When he had helped her out of the boat, their hands had touched briefly. Instead of seeing desire or lust in Meg's eyes, he had seen, relief and a muted joy. Like the human contact between them was a comfort.

Not only for her, but for him as well. She had walked away, quite a sight in her tattered and dirty costume. Sam thought that only added to her grace.

His mind swam with the events of the evening. Was he sinking or swimming? After Erik had subsided from him, Sam had felt a strange calmness. He remembered pulling away from Meg, as the cobwebs cleared. He wiped away the stray tears that had fallen down her cheeks.

He couldn't believe the tender feelings that had been flowing between the two of them. He could feel the after affects like the calmness after a storm. It was mostly Erik during that precious moment between them. A sudden epiphany came upon him. Erik loves Meg! Whether it's romantic or platonic he was not sure. Considering Christine weighed heavily into this, it made the scenario more complicated.

The only person who knew was Erik, and he hoped that soon, so would Marie. His hand froze on the last key, wondering what the hell he had been playing. His body tensed when he felt a presence behind him. He jumped off the stool, ready to put his black belt to good use when he felt a rope flung tightly around his neck. But, before he could even fight, the rope loosened. The perpetrator spoke, in a strongly, accented voice.

"Who are you? You are not Erik."

* * *

**Dormitory Area- December 4th 1890**

**3:10 am**

Meg walked along the dormitories, the silence deafening. After the commotion Erik caused, she guessed everyone just scattered to the winds. The silence was broken by an angry man's voice and Meg ran and hid behind a statue prop.

_Raoul!_

She saw that he wasn't alone, that rat, Buquet, was with him. They were speaking in hushed tones. She could hear from her hiding place that they were not talking about something as casual as the weather.

"You were only supposed to scare her you son of a"

"Hey, hey, your lordship, she looked pretty scared to me."

Buquet mockingly bowed to 'his Lordship' when Raoul grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket.

"Christine means everything to me, you bastard. You put your filthy hands all over her, and now you are going to pay."

"Actually, you are."

Buquet dusted off the shoulders of Raoul's jacket, as the latter loosened his grip on the letch,

"I hate to think how your love would react if she found out you paid me to make you look like a hero. Oh, what a tangled web we weave."

"I am not going to let you blackmail me, Buquet."

"Well, I guess you won't mind if I tell her."

Buquet started to walk away when Raoul grabbed his arm roughly.

"Why would she believe you? Everyone at this opera house knows your scum."

"Oh, that hurts, Vicomte. You cut me to the quick. Though, I am sure when this 'scum' shows her the twenty five thousand franks in his pocket, it will put a few questions in her mind. A lowly stage hand, making that kind of money. Surely, that is not possible unless he had the help of a rich benefactor." Buquet's voice went up to a soprano like pitch, mocking the opera star.

Raoul's face turned bright red, his anger barely contained. Meg saw as Raoul's shaking hand pulled a large amount of money out of his billfold.

"Here, take the money and leave this place immediately. If I so much as see your pasty face in this opera house again, the opera ghost will be the least of your worries."

Joseph Buquet whistled when he saw the amount of cash he had been handed.

"I give you my word of honor, Vicomte. Aurevoir.

Buquet nearly fell as he mockingly bowed. He staggered away, obviously still intoxicated as hell.

Meg's eyes closed, disbelieving everything she had witnessed. _Oh, Raoul. Why, why did you do such a thing. You made a deal with the Devil, and if Christine were to find out, she would never forgive you._

Meg didn't notice the statue was swaying until it was too late. Raoul had started to walk away looking dejected and guilty when he heard a loud crash. He whirled around and saw Meg's petite form coming out from behind the fallen statue.

"Vicomte," she squeaked in a high pitched voice. "Raoul, I was just looking for my ring." She got on her hands and knees, as convincingly as possible. She acted like she saw her ring and made a swooping motion with her fingers.

"I found it. Well, I will just mosey on my way."

By this time Raoul had reached her and his hand snaked out and grabbed her arm.

"Meg, how much did you hear? How, much, did you hear? Meg, don't make me ask again."

His grip tightened on her arm , not enough to hurt, but to get her attention.

Meg's mind swam, _okay what would MaMa do? She would probably kick him and then give him a long lecture that would make him want to commit himself. No, she would have to be more cunning. What would Christine do? She would pour on the charm and lie through her teeth. Plan B sounds like the winner."_

As sweetly and as innocently as possible she said, "Well, I saw that you gave Buquet some money and told him to leave. You did it for our sake, didn't you? You wanted to keep the ballerinas safe. I must tell you I thank you for myself, and all the other ladies of the ballet dormitories." Meg laid on the dumb blonde smile really thick. She would only hope that Raoul was like every other man she knew. He was.

"Well, Marguerite. It was my pleasure. But, if you wouldn't mind keeping this secret between us, I would appreciate it. After all, I would like to keep a low profile."

As he finished his _deceptive_ speech, she briefly saw a little of the Raoul she knew. A hint of guilt and sadness washed over his features. _Yes, you had better feel guilty you snake._

As quickly as the thought crossed her mind it disappeared. Who was she to judge him? She was just as confused and unsure as he was.

"Oh, of course I will. Your secret is save with me, even from Christine."

He raised her hand and kissed as he did a once over of her person.

_Uh, oh._

"Meg, you look a fright! What happened to you?

His eyes took in her dirty, ripped clothing, messy hair, and smudged face.

Meg thought quickly and could come up with only one ridiculous explanation.

"I fell down." She winced at her own pathetic words and waited for his response.

If he knew she was lying, he didn't let on.

"Marguerite, I know you must be tired, but will you go see Christine. She was just attacked by Buquet, and I think she needs your shoulder right now."

"I will go to her straight away."

Meg saw confusion wash over his face from her lack of surprise at his words.

"News travels fast in the ballet dormitories. I heard of the attack on the way back to my room. I was actually on my way to her when I came upon you."

Meg lowered her gaze, hoping that he wouldn't see her face flushing from nerves that were quickly unraveling. She quickly walked away, throwing a goodbye over her shoulder.

His voice stopped her. "Meg."

She paused and turned toward him.

"Yes, Raoul.

He opened his mouth as if to say something and then closed it. She saw his desire for emotional contact, he wanted for her to tell him everything was going to be all right. But, they were no longer children, and they both had to face facts. They had to face up to their own responsibilities.

"Thank you." He bowed and walked away, leaving Meg alone in the dark hallway.

* * *

**Christine's Dressing Room**

Christine awoke to urgent knocking. She looked at the clock on the mantel. It read three forty-five. She must have fallen asleep. The knocking continued, though it became less desperate. Christine walked to the door and opened it cautiously. Meg rushed in, looking frazzled.

"Christine, are you all right?"

Christine brought her friend into a warm hug, and then broke down. She started to sob as she told Meg everything. Her friend stroked her hair as she cried. When Christine pulled herself together, she wiped away her tears roughly.

"I'm sorry Meg," she said, pulling away from her. "I shouldn't have put all of this on your shoulders."

"Nonsense, Christine. Who better a shoulder to cry on than a best friend? Well, except for a beau of course."

Christine giggled for the first time that night, allowing the mood to lighten slightly. She stood up.

"Oh, Meg. How could someone do something so, immoral. What kind of monster would do such a thing? Well, I guess I always suspected he wasn't human."

"Yeah, I think a pig would be his closest relative," Meg said, laughing.

Christine smiled. "Meg, did you happen to see Raoul on your way here?"

Christine saw Meg's face go ashen and she stammered, "What, why do you ask that?"

"Okay, Meg. What's wrong?"

"What makes you think anything is wrong?"

"Well, for starters, we have known each other for years and I know when you are hiding something. Second, you are answering my questions with questions. My guess would be to avoid outright lying to me."

Meg hesitated and then sighed. "Christine, you and I have had a long night. First at the ball and then what happened with Buquet. Why don't we talk tomorrow?"

She kissed Christine's cheek and turned to leave. Christine quickly followed and grabbed her wrist.

"Meg, does this happen to do with what happened between you and Raoul, tonight?"

"Wait, how could you possibly know…"

"Meg," Christine interrupted, "I saw the way you two danced in each other's arms. You two feel something for each other."

Christine saw that Meg's eyes grew big with surprise. She guessed it was because Meg hadn't known she had seen it with her own eyes. Meg was about to speak when Christine waved her hand.

"You are right, Meg. Let's not talk about it tonight. It has been a very confusing time for all of us. We will figure things out. I can take comfort in knowing that neither you nor Raoul would ever do anything to hurt me." _Nor my angel, _she added silently.

Meg opened her mouth and then closed it. She looked like she was either going to laugh hysterically or start bawling. She did neither. Meg gave her another hug and started to open the door.

"Meg, what's this?" Christine pulled a clump of dirt from Meg's hair, bringing it into Meg's field of vision.

"Um, I fell."

Christine raised an eyebrow but, let her friend leave. When Christine was once again alone she started to change into her night dress. _What has Meg been up too?

* * *

_

**Meg's Bedroom- Dec 4th 1890**

**4:30 am**

"_Oh, God, she knows, she knows. I am such a horrible friend. Why didn't you tell her, Meg? Why didn't you tell your best friend she is courting a scoundrel?_

Meg dropped the robe she had used to cover her tattered dress in Christine's company.

She hadn't wanted to take the time to clean up and change. Her friend had needed her, and even so, she had done wrong. She had looked Christine straight in the eye and hadn't told her the truth. Why? Maybe because she just didn't want to get involved, caught in the middle so to speak. Perhaps it was only Raoul's place to tell Christine. Or, maybe it was something else. She did know one thing, though. She would not lie to her friend, or any of them for that matter. Meg would have to talk to Raoul, and tell him what she knew. She would give him a chance to confess to Christine. If he wouldn't, she would do it for him.

She pulled on her sleeping clothes and brushed her hair back into a loose braid. Frowning as a another small, clump of dirt fell from her locks. There was another problem. What about her other secret? The one she had been keeping from Christine for years. She had been meeting Erik in secret for a long time Okay, so they weren't exactly romantic rendezvous. But, he was giving her the gift a song. A gift, she felt, should not be hidden from Christine. If she found out, she might not think her _gift_ was very special.

_Oh, Erik. Why did you put me in this position? Christine is the true opera diva, not me. __I just wanted to be with you. Why should I be the one to tell her? Sitting there, acting like he had no idea what secret I was talking about. Hmm, figure that._

Meg got into her bed, and blew out the candle on her nightstand. She tried to ignore the thoughts in her head and the images of the people in her life that came with them. _Well, it looks like angst has finally landed on my doorstep. Oh, Lord, can I take it back. _A clap of thunder was Meg's only answer.


	19. Old Friends

-1**Old Friends**

**Author's Note: Same old story. It has been forever since I have updated. And once again, I apologize. In this chapter, I am introducing the mysterious man that I fleetingly mentioned in the Masquerade sequence. I hope you like it. Oh, and please review, Ziggy needs the info for her database.**

**Phantom's Lair - December 4th 1890 **

**3:10 am**

_Who are you? You are not Erik. _The question seemed to echo in Sam's mind as he slowly stood up from the piano bench. The noose had slowly slid from his neck. He finally forced his vocal cords into action.

"Considering this is my home, I think I should be the one enquiring of _**your**_identity." Sam slowly turned around, ready for any sudden movements from the perpetrator behind him. What he saw surprised him more than the rope that had been around his neck.

A man with very dark eyes and a very unthreatening pose, stood before him. The noose was on the floor, obviously forgotten by the dark stranger . Judging by his brown skin and heavily accented voice, Sam guessed this was likely the Persian.

"Well, Sir, I would think if you truly were the infamous Phantom, you would already know the answer to that. So, care to enlighten me as to who I am."

The Persian was obviously a very intelligent man, with a snide, quick wit. He could see Persian was knowledgeable of the Phantom's character. It would be hard to fool him. Damn it, where was Al when Sam needed him. He was going to have to fake it.

"Well, old friend, I would certainly hope to remember the man who is responsible for setting me free from certain death."

Sam prayed silently, hoping his visitor would buy it. He walked around him in what he hoped was a very Erik like way. The Persian never let Sam get behind him, his face always in his direction.

"That is why I am being so polite, what's a little hospitality between friends."

The Persian looked at him, his eyes conveying slight uncertainty.

_Good, now I am getting somewhere. Now, to get him to open up about his relationship with Erik without blowing my cover. Not so good._

"If you are the man I seek, why didn't you hear me coming long before I even reached the portcullis."

_Damn, now what. Okay, Sam, be smart and think fast. Let's see , inner ear problem? Just a wee bit off in my phantom skills, today, Mousier? Yeah, right._

"Well, how do you know I didn't hear you the whole time old friend. Why not make you feel you've the upper handIt's all in great fun, is it not, Persian?"

The Persian's brown eyes looked at Sam's form cautiously. Though the Persian seemed fearless, he obviously didn't underestimate Erik's capabilities.

"Forgive me, Erik. I should not have denied you." The Persian made a slight bow, seemingly waiting for Sam to respond.

Sam walked with the phantom like grace to the seat in front of the organ. He spoke as nonchalantly as possible. "So, what are you doing here, sir?"

"As a matter of fact, Erik, I came here to ask you that very same question? What motivated you to assist in the design and construction of this opera house, only to be confined below it."

"To keep pesky, interfering Persians out of my business." Sam gave a humorless smile, acting the Phantom as best he knew how.

"Erik, you are not a well man. It is my fault that you are alive to hurt someone else. Erik, if you have any goodness at all in you, you will turn yourself into the authorities."

"Why, I am living quite a comfortable life here, Mousier. Quiet, with plentiful room, and all the water one could ever need." Sam made a gesture to the lake, scaring himself with how well the Phantom's mannerisms were coming to him.

"Erik, I will turn you in myself if I have to, only I won't have any control over what the police will do."

"Are you threatening me, sir?"

The Persian's stance remained poised, but his eyes became filled with alarm. Sam stood up and approached him, placed his hands on the Persian's shoulders.

"You should know by now, old friend. I do not respond well to threats." Sam patted him, mockingly, as he stepped back from his guest.

Sam, noting the fear in the man's eyes, decided to switch angles with the man and tried approaching him, his way, instead of Erik's.

"I may be causing mischievous, chaos here at the opera house. But, I am not hurting anyone, and I have no plans to do so. So, if you would be so kind as to show yourself out, and forget we ever saw each other."

Sam's tone was no nonsense and yet, gentle. The kind of tone that a parent used to get a child's attention. Honest, non threatening, and yet, filled with promise. One, that definitely got the Persian's attention.

"Erik, this ends for now. You should know, however, I am not leaving Paris. I will not allow you to harm anyone else. Until we meet again."

The Persian walked toward the portcullis, wading his way over to it. As he passed through it Sam heard him mutter, "Now to find a way here without possible drowning."

Sam smiled to himself, tiredly. Realizing it was now 4 am and he hadn't slept in hours. He crawled to the swan bed, taking off his boots as he fell in. Sam instantly fell into a dreamless, sleep.

* * *

**New Mexico- Present Day: Starbucks Coffee Shop**

Marie stood in line impatiently, anxious for her double, nonfat mocha. Of course, it was the last thing she probably needed, considering she was scheduled to see Erik this morning.

_Yeah, Felder, you really need to be all jittery in that man's company._

When she finally reached the counter and the Barista's fake smile she gave her order. Fake, smile girl asked for her name and if she wanted whip cream. After she gave her answer the girl rattled off the order to her coworker.

"Have a wonderful day, Marie," fake, smile girl said.

"Thank you, you too," Marie replied, mimicing the girl's fake tone and smile.

"It's nice to see some things never change."

Marie turned to the voice behind her, eyes glaring at the face attached to it.

"Jason, what a pleasant surprise. I see your here feeding your addiction as well."

"Well, that's one thing you and I had in common, our love for the coffee bean."

Their was an uncomfortable silence as the two looked at each other.

"Well, I really have to get to the office," Marie said, as she moved around him. Before she reached her destination, however, a woman's voice punctured her ear drum.

"Jason, love, I see you have yet to order my latte."

The high pitched voice, with an English accent, came from a fake woman, with a fake smile, and fake everything else. Marie had her fill of insincere people for one morning.

The woman's cheery demeanor faded when she looked at Marie. The woman's eyes filled with distaste, like she had just swallowed something putrid. Marie guessed that her own 75 percent off, clearance rack outfit from Sears, offended Miss Gucci's cashmere sweater.

Marie smiled sweetly, challenging the rude woman, with her eyes.

Jason's eyes grew nervous, looking like he could relate to Daniel, in the lion's den.

Jason touched Marie's arm in gesture and introduced them.

"Marie, I would like to introduce you to my Publisher, Missy Clemens. Missy this is Marie, my…

"Ex-girlfriend," Marie finished for him. She held out her hand and shook the wenche's extended one. Marie turned to Jason, something he had said just hit her.

"Wait, Publisher. Jason, you finished your book, didn't you. I had no idea."

"Well, actually. That was something I was going to tell you the other night when I came by, but something else came up."

He looked at her knowingly, and, as if, challenging her. She took a sip of her mocha, looking at the lid of the cup as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world. Shockingly, the barracuda, was silenced. Missy looked on, shooting daggers at the couple through the whole conversation.

"Jason, I'm so happy for you. You have been working on that book for a long time, Doctor, congrats."

She didn't know why she stretched out her hand to shake his. It just felt right. She felt his warmth penetrate her flesh, and she quickly dropped her hand from his.

"Well, I really have to go. It was nice meeting you, Mitzy."

"It's Missy," the publisher hissed. She tugged on Jason's arm. "Come on Jason, let's order."

She possessively pulled him to fake, smile girl, and relayed her complicated order. Marie shook her head and walked out of Starbucks and headed to her car. As she started the engine she took another swig of her drink. She looked through the windows and observed the python that was wrapped around Jason. A rainstorm of feeling came over her and she quickly fought them off.

Marie sighed and drove out of the parking lot.

"I really should switch to decaf."


	20. Try To Forgive

**Try To Forgive**

**Author's Note: Here's chapter twenty. Thanks for hanging in there. It has been crazy the last two months. I hope you enjoy this update. Please leave a review and let me know what you think. If you feel I need to improve in some area, please let me know. I don't mind constructive criticism. **

**Project Site-Present Day 9:00 am**

Marie nervously took a final swig of her mocha as the sound of her shoes hitting the floor echoed in the building. She looked at her watch, dreading and welcoming the moment she would see Erik. She slid her pass card into the security slot and walked toward the waiting room.

Marie smoothed her hair back, wondering why she hadn't clipped it up this morning, and turned the knob, opening the door. She had barely entered the room when once again she heard him humming, only this time more audible. The music nearly hypnotized her, it was so beautiful, and oddly, familiar. Where had she heard that melody before?

"I didn't think you would be back."

Marie jumped, startled out of her silent thoughts. Erik had turned towards her, looking at her expectantly. It occurred to her that she had yet to answer.

"Oh, just because we threw insults at each other, really Sir, that is no different than my family gatherings," the doctor said lightly. She couldn't help raising her eyebrows at his amused smirk.

"I am guessing you have a few weeds in your family garden as well, Miss Felder."

Marie was about to correct her title to Doctor Felder, but she was stopped by Erik's voice.

"Do you think anyone has a normal family, Doctor?"

Marie approached, noticing something in his eyes she had not yet seen, genuine humility.

"Erik, unfortunately, I don't think it's possible to have a normal family. Of course, I am not exactly an expert on normal families. I wouldn't know what that is."

"I used to dream of one," Erik said quietly. "I remember the moments when I had a mask shoved on my face and was locked in the attic because we were expecting visitors. I would imagine my father was a man who would throw me up on his shoulders and show the world just how proud he was of me. My mother would smother me with hugs and both of them would take me down to the park and we would fly kites.

When I wasn't wandering in my imagination, I would sketch. They would range from beautiful faces, to magnificent palaces. It seemed to take my mind off…."

Erik had suddenly stopped speaking and started to pace, not looking at her. Marie decided it was as good a time as any to ask a question.

"Erik, last time I was here, you mentioned being sold to the gypsies. When did that happen?"

"The day my face was exposed, by accident mind you. I was nine years old. My Mother was having a garden party. I had sneaked out of the attic and watched the ridiculously, self centered, aristocratic party goers. Their conversations were mindless and haughty, amazingly so, I wanted so much to be apart of their world. My hiding place, unfortunately was not good enough, for a little girl noticed me. She started to giggle and ask me questions about my mask. By this time, others had noticed me and were gathering. I suppose they wondered whose child this was, after all, according to my parents, I was stillborn.

The little girl was relentless, and finally did what she had wanted from the start. She ripped the cloth mask from my face. From that point, all I remember is screaming, gasps full of disgust. I remember arms roughly grabbing mine, my Father's. He screamed that he had no idea how such a monstrous child had entered his house. The door swung open, and I was thrown out into the street."

Doctor Felder approached him slowly and touched his arm. "What happened then, Erik?"

Erik turned to look at her, eyes full of grief. "I ran, as fast as I could. I would never go back. Oh sure, maybe Father would send the butler out to fetch me after the party broke up. But, I would not let him find me."

"Erik, why do you think your parents kept you all those years. Why didn't they dispose of you right away?"

Erik suddenly turned on her, grabbing her arms as he shook her.

"They may not have disposed of me physically, but they destroyed my soul. Their disgust, their apathy, complete lack of love. I can count on one hand how often my Father struck me. I can't remember one time he touched me with affection. I would have felt better if he had beat me, at least that would have taken away some of the nagging emptiness."

Suddenly, without premeditation, Marie took her hand and reached for his face. Her caress was sweet and gentle, one that she needed as much he did. His lids grew heavy, as his grasp on her arms loosened. His eyes closed, reveling in her touch. Tears stung at Marie's eyes as she fought for control. _Why, _she thought, _why? _

"Why Mama, why didn't you stop Daddy? You are such a coward Mother, I hate you, I hate you."

He sank to the floor, dragging Marie down with him. Marie held him, trying desperately to comfort him with her embrace.

"Why, Marie, why?"

"Oh, Erik, I wish I knew."

"Marie, there are many monsters in this world, but I am beginning to think that angels on earth are not as scarce as I thought."

Amazingly instead of being afraid of his words, she was comforted. As she watched the few stray tears dry on his face she was startled that he was touching the delicate skin around her eyes.

He was wiping away the tears she had not known she had shed.

**Madame **Giry's **Sitting Room**

**December 4th 1890-11:00 am**

Meg stifled a yawn as her mother poured more tea into her cup. Meg raised the glass in salute and took a sip.

"Darling, where were you last night?"

Meg was so startled by the question that she nearly choked. She put her tea cup down wincing at the clank it made.

She gave her Mother a dumb look and said, "Pardon."

Unfortunately, her Mother didn't fall for it and said sharply, "Marguerite, don't start with me. Where were you?"

Meg took a deep breath, thankful her corset wasn't so tight that she would pass out from the lack of oxygen. Now all she had to worry about was her heart jumping out of her chest from the penetrable gaze her stern Mother was giving her. Meg looked at the clock, as if time would help her now. Her day was completely free and had all the time in the world to tell her mother anything. Even if it wasn't, there was no way the _Madame Giry _would let her leave now.

"Well, Mother, um, u u usually, there comes a time, when, well a woman, um."

Both women were startled when they heard a knock at the door. Meg thanked God in heaven for the interruption and her Mother looked like she was ready to curse at whoever was standing outside the door. Meg rushed to the door giving her Mother a look that said, _Now, Mama, we can't be rude.. _

"Who is it?"

"It's Raoul De Chagny , Mademoiselle Giry."

Meg glanced at her Mother , noting the look of surprise on her face.. Meg quickly opened the door and let him inside. He was dressed impeccably as usually, his hair loose about his face.

But, in place of his sparkling, vital blue eyes was melancholy, dull eyes, with dark circles under them. He looked like he hadn't swept well at all. At least Meg wasn't alone in that. Raoul bowed, glancing over at Madame Giry as she stood in greeting.

"Hello Monsieur, of what do we have this pleasure?" Madame Giry asked, eyes full of suspicion.

"Madame, there is something very important I wish to discuss with Marguerite. May I have the pleasure of a walk with your daughter."

"Well, I don't mind, sir, that decision would be up to Meg."

Raoul saw the two exchange looks that he could not read, Meg turned to him and said, "Of course, Raoul, I would like that very much."

Meg grabbed her wrap from the from the closet and all but ran to the door. Before Raoul could take her arm and escort her out into the hall, Madame Giry cried, "Meg, do not be gone long."

Meg noticed the promising tone in her Mother's voice as Raoul closed the door behind them.

**Present Day- Project Site: Waiting Room**

**10:30 am**

Erik looked at Marie quietly, feeling vulnerable and confused. He had just poured his heart out to a shrink, something he thought he would never do. He had told her everything about his life before he had lived with the gypsies. Including the pain that he had suffered involving his apathetic Father, and his weak Mother. After they had shed tears together, he had calmed down enough to look at his family life, somewhat logically. Marie coaxed him to work through it himself, telling her his own conclusions in the process.

It was amazing how easy it was to reveal everything to her. In an odd way, he felt like he knew her. Yet, he knew he had never seen her before he had _leapt _(as Calavicci called it) into this whole mess. Why, the hell was he here anyway? How would he ever leave this place the residents called, Quantum Leap? Erik suddenly realized Marie was trying to get his attention.

"Erik, Erik?"

He raised his eyes to hers in response.

"Erik, at least you have come to the understanding that your Mother loved you. She was just weak."

"She was a coward," Erik corrected.

"Well, I guess that's an improvement over whore." Marie said, making a joke despite the seriousness of the situation.

Erik found himself giving a faint smile, though he noticed anger starting to build in him. A feeling that unnerved him.

"Just because she may have loved me doesn't make me feel any better. She obviously didn't love me enough. If she did, she would have forced herself to find the courage to stand up to that bastard."

"Maybe, you aren't supposed to feel better. Maybe this realization will help you to face what the real issues are."

Erik finally lost the delicate hold he had on his emotions. He swung around and stalked up to her. He was inches from her and she could feel his anger, thought he didn't try to touch her.

"And what are those issues Felder? Please tell me, enlighten my crazy, homicidal mind?"

"Erik, please, you know I can't answer that."

"Well, what about you, Doctor, what about your issues? And don't say, Erik, this isn't about me."

Marie tried not to tense at his mocking tone. He was now a few steps away from her, but she could still feel his aura everywhere. Marie didn't answer, probably because she didn't know what the answer was.

"What am I doing here, Felder? Why am I being analyzed by some female doctor speaking of issues as if she herself knows how to face them. I may be a retired assassin fighting my taste for blood but, I am facing a woman who is just as violent as I am."

"That's not true," Marie exclaimed, her voice rising to that of a yell.

"No," he walked toward her again. What scared her was not his elated temper, but something that looked like compassion in his eyes.

"Marie, why do I get the feeling you relate to me? No, you may not be into physical blood shed, but that of an emotional, spiritual kind."

"Erik, our time is up."

Marie tried to dismiss him and walk away, but he wouldn't have any of it. He grabbed her arms firmly, but not roughly.

"No, it's over when I say it's over. Marie, you assassinate everyone around you, by shutting others out. If you feel like you're being exposed in anyway you get scared and run away."

Marie shut her eyes, as if trying to block out his words.

"At least I am honest," he continued. I brutally murdered people for a living, but I never pretended that it was right. You won't even admit that you keep other people at arms distance to protect your own feelings. You won't admit that your selfish, refusing to face whatever hurt you and save the precious, few relationships that you have."

She managed to finally push him away, her eyes blazing.

"How dare you make such accusations. Don't presume that you know anything about me. Spending a few hours with me doesn't make you an expert on me or my past."

The phantom laughed without humor and replied, "Funny, I always pictured myself on the other side of this conversation."

Fuming, Marie stalked over to the exit.

"Felder."

She stopped and turned around to look at him. She was amazed to find a very serious, thoughtful look on his face. A world of difference from his cynical look seconds earlier.

"Forgive him."

"What?"

"Whoever he was, just forgive him. You don't want to end up like me."

"It's never too late, Erik. You may want to take your own advise."

Marie fought back her own emotional turmoil and with those final words, left.


	21. Help Me Say Goodbye

**Help Me Say Goodbye**

**December 4, 1890 12:00 PM**

"Raoul, we have been walking around the same street for the past ten minutes and neither one of us has said a word. "

Meg stopped beside Raoul as he paused his movement and looked at the Opera Garnier in front of him. Meg looked at him expectantly and sighed exasperatedly.

"All right, I will begin. Raoul, what exactly were you doing with Buquet last night?"

Meg had know idea where her sudden courage came from, the way she just threw an accusation in his face. Actually , that wasn't true, she did know. Although what Raoul had done was extremely underhanded, she wasn't afraid of him. She instinctively trusted him, well trusted the fact that he wouldn't harm anyone intentionally.

Raoul's eyes turned toward her, they were oddly calm and somewhat resigned. He stayed silent for a moment just staring at her. Meg didn't know whether it made her uncomfortable or peaceful. She didn't have anymore time to ponder the fact for Raoul spoke.

"Marguerite, why ask questions to which you already know the answers?"

"Vicomte, I know the assumption was you were protecting all of us from that brute…"

"And the fact that I paid Buquet to scare Christine, a deal I'm afraid that went horribly wrong."

When Raoul finished her sentence for her, Meg's mouth opened and closed her mouth like a fish.

Raoul suddenly laughed and touched her face affectionately.

"You thought you fooled me with your acting skills Miss Meg. Meg you are many things beautiful, intelligent and an amazing dancer , but an actress you are not. I knew you were faking the moment I looked in your eyes. You have not much of a poker face, Marguerite."

Meg did not join in on his laughter and looked at him solemnly.

"Raoul, what you did was not funny, and you hurt my best friend. And worse yet, you did something that challenged your good nature."

Raoul's eyes looked down, wandering anywhere but her face. Gaining courage and trying to push away his shame, he finally looked up into her blue eyes.

"Meg, I am not proud of what I did. In fact my actions were that of something desperate. I was foolish, I was trying to hang on to what I was familiar with. If I could hold on to Christine, everything would be…

"Less complicated," Meg finished, covering the outside of his hand with her own. A couple of women who was apart of a well know gossiping chain walked past. Whispering at each other. No doubt they caught the affectionate display. Meg knew without a doubt everyone would be calling her a home wrecker, the vicomte a letch, and Christine the woman scorned, by supper time.

Raoul noticed this too, and shook his head as he gently pulled his hand away from Meg's..

"Something like that, the point is, you were right. I need to know what I want, before I can understand what anyone else wants. Dear Meg, you always seem to understand. I have always admired your sensibility."

Meg tried to shrug off the compliment and said lightly, "Why didn't you tell me you saw through my charade."

Raoul pushed back a stray hair that had come loose from her chignon. "I don't know, you looked like a scared cat, I didn't want to frighten you."

"I have news for you, Monsieur, you were a little too late." Meg punctuated this by pointing her finger and gesturing toward him with every word.

"Meg I'm sorry I scared you. But, you know I would never do anything to hurt Christine, at least not intentionally, and I would especially never hurt you."

Meg smiled weakly and told him what had been on her mind for the last several hours, " Raoul,

You have to tell Christine, or I will be forced to tell her myself."

Raoul sighed, "Meg, I have already told her."

"You did?"

"Yes, I spoke to her early this morning."

"How did she react?"

"She didn't really, which alarmed me slightly. She told me that she needed time to think, to process everything. I wanted her to yell, scream, to call me a bastard, anything other that the silence. I guess I deserve that uncertainty."

"That and more, Raoul. But, I am not exactly an angel either, so I suppose I shouldn't speak out of turn. Well, that has never stopped me before."

Meg laughed, feeling a huge weight lift off her shoulders. Now, she was going to lighten her load a little further.

"Raoul, I must go."

"Where," he replied.

"I am going to follow your example, and do something I should have done a long time ago. A confession."

Meg turned to go, but Raoul stopped her by grabbing her wrist.

"Meg, I meant what I said, you don't need to fear me. I would never hurt anyone, especially you."

Meg, trying to hide her flustered reaction, asked sardonically, "Is this where I am supposed to swoon, Monsieur.

"Seriously, Marguerite, you mean more to me than you realize."

Meg, unsure of how to react, let her wrist slip from his grip. She started to walk away and then stopped. She turned to face him one last time and said, "Aurevior, Raoul."

**Present Day- Garnier Cemetery **

Marie looked at the clouds gathering in the sky. They were turning black, promising a storm was on the horizon. She turned her car into the parking space and turned the engine off. She stepped out of the car, her destination looming before her. Goosebumps rose on her forearms as she walked closer to her goal. She passed the stone statues and their cold stares. She passed the tombs that were big enough to be considered sacred monuments. At last she arrived, her Father's grave.

She looked at it, wondering what had possessed her to come here? Of course , she knew the answer to that. He was tall and brooding , with intense eyes that could look right through a person. It was amazing how the man looked like Sam to her, and yet his eyes and expressions were so different from Sam's. Though, his ability to be irritatingly right was a quality he shared

with the leaper.

She had to give herself credit too, though. Erik made quite a few breakthroughs today with her aid. She also made one for herself, and she was staring at it, quite literally, in the face. Her thoughts drifted from Erik, to that of her Father. Very painful thoughts that she longed to avoid.

Her father hadn't been a bad man., in fact, compared to a lot of fathers, he had been quite a gem. Yet, the emotional drought his life had left on her soul effected her throughout her life. The fact was, he just didn't know how to show love to his eldest daughter. He often ignored her, and only paid attention to her when she got a bad grade or got in trouble. Even when that happened. He didn't discipline her with love. He would berate her and compare her to her younger sister. Though Nicki, didn't come along till five years after Marie had been born, she always felt second best in her dad's eyes.

The memories of how proud he was of his Nicki for her accomplishments, and his casual attitude toward Marie's. They were both smart and capable students. Nicole had been senior class president. Marie had been valedictorian. Dad was ecstatic with his youngest, bestowing upon her hugs and kisses. While with his eldest he had patted her on the back and said something like,

'It won't be this easy in college you know.'

After she had left for college she lost contact with her Father, though maintaining a somewhat healthy relationship with her mother and sister. She never blamed her sister for their dad's favoritism, thankfully, for today Nicole was her closest friend. The same can't be said for her mother, though. She would often blame her for the hard times she experienced with her dad, or as he liked to be called, _The Major._

As Marie got older she realized it wasn't her mom's fault. In reality _Mrs. Major, _tried to fill in the gaps her father left_,_ by showing Marie as much love and belief in her that she could. The problem was, Marie wanted this from her dad, and no matter how much she wanted it to change, it just simply was. Eventually, her hope that he would love and believe in her died, and not long after he had done the same.

Marie focused her mind and eyes once again on her unpleasant task. She kneeled down in front of the tombstone and took a deep breath..

"Dad, I bet your surprised that I'm here, huh. You probably thought you would have one foot in the grave before," Marie stopped speaking, a humorless smile splayed across her face.

"Okay, no pun intended there. I guess I will get right to the chase, as you would have put it.

I am here to say Goodbye. This is not for you, but for me. I need to move on. My hope, as a child was for you to be proud of me. Every single time that hope was shot down with your casual attitude. Causing me to fear that no man could possibly love me. I lost a wonderful man because, I didn't want to get hurt. Though, I don't blame you. One thing you did teach me was to take responsibility for my own actions, Major. I guess I can thank you for that. I am strong and resilient and don't take any crap, though lately I am making myself sick with my _damsel in distress _behavior. You know this is much easier now that you're dead. Ironic, isn't it?

Sorry, I can't even say goodbye to my Father without my defense mechanism kicking in. It's just, um. I forgive you, Dad. I know you were far from perfect, but I think, in your own way, you did love me. You just, for one reason or another, couldn't show it. I know now, that it isn't about the people who didn't love me, or seem to. It's about the people who do love. I can't push them away anymore. I deserve to be happy, damn it. I will no longer feel sorry for myself. I am going to live, and love. I am going to love with my whole heart. Even if it kills me." Marie sighed once again at her bad choice of words.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye, Dad. The part of my life where I used to hate you is gone."

Marie stood up an brushed off her pants.

"And Dad, I love you."

That last part came out a whisper, barely audible by the noise of the approaching thunder.

At that very moment, the downpour started. Within seconds, Marie was soaked.

"So, is that my answer? "

With a shake of her head she turned toward her car. Before she even made it two steps she was stopped by someone standing in front of her. "Mother!"


	22. Teach Me to Live

_**Teach Me to Live**_

_**Opera Popular - Phantom's Lair**_

_**December 4**__**th**__** 1890, 1:00 PM**_

**_Author's Note: It seems to be a reoccuring event where I am apologizing for the long wait. Well, sorry I can't seem to break the tradition. Anyway, I was in the process of moving for a while which kept me busy. I am now getting settled and I managed to scribble out a rough draft by pen and paper, heaven forbid. lol Anyway, here is the finished product. Hope you enjoy. As you know, feedback is always welcome._**

_Sam looked around the Phantom's dark palace. The temperature was colder than usual, and the surroundings seemed more luminous. He hadn't known what possessed him to walk toward the coffin. He just felt like it was calling to him. His hand shook as he reached it toward the lid. __It seemed to fly open on it's own and Sam stared in awestruck horror at the image he found inside. It was a man in a mask, the Phantom's mask. The corpse sat up and turned his head toward Doctor Beckett. _

"_Sam, you have to help me."_

_Sam's palms sweated and his heart pounded as he answered. "How?_

"_You have to kill me."_

"_Erik, I can't do that."_

"_Then, I am as good as dead, anyway."_

"_Erik, I don't have the strength. We are too late."_

_The man who was supposed to be Erik jumped out of the coffin. He walked away silently with Sam following close behind. Erik spotted his organ and sat down before it. His fingers brushed over the keys as they produced a beautiful melody._

"_Sam, if you don't kill me and the good Doctor doesn't resurrect me, this too will die."_

_Sam saw the dark angel's head gesture toward his playing as clarity came to him._

"_Erik, what do you need me to do?"_

_The man stopped playing and walked toward Sam. He placed his hands on his shoulders. He looked like a Father about to give his son a heartfelt talk._

"_Sam, it is true, good people are not as scarce as I thought. Dr. Beckett, listen carefully. If you want to destroy me, you need to appear in my place as Don Juan tomorrow night."_

"_But, Erik, they will kill you, or you will end up killing an innocent person."_

"_But, you will be there. When you are with me, I'm not as angry. In the same manner, I feel calmer as she heals me. You will succeed Dr. Beckett. You don't allow otherwise."_

_Sam spirit calmed as he looked at the man's face. Sam reached out for the Phantom's mask and looked at him for permission. Erik nodded and stood still as Sam removed the mask from his face. What he saw shocked him. He did not see the warped and tangled face of the man known as the Opera Ghost. He saw gentle face, with an unmarred complexion. The kind eyes of a man who was given a second chance at life. The flawless face of Erik De Chagney._

"_Erik, I knew you are there. You are deep inside, but you are there."_

_Erik leaned forward and hugged him, like he was a dear friend he hadn't seen in years._

_Erik pulled back and looked him straight in the eye._

"_It's time for you to wake up, Sam. Wake up, Sam."_

"Sam, wake up."

"Al?"

Sam shot up in bed. The sheets were twisted around the lower half of his body and his eyes were blurry from heavy sleep. He looked to his side and saw Al standing over him. He jumped out of bed and had a gleam in his eyes.

"Sam, I don't like that look."

"Al, I know how to save, Erik."

**Mrs. Lynette Felder's House-Present Day, 5:00 pm**

Marie sipped her tea slowly as she tried to avoid direct eye contact with her mother. The hot liquid scolded her tongue, while it warmed her cold body. 'Oops, too late,'

She had looked at her mother. Her cool blue eyes looked right into her soul. Which was quite ironic considering her father's eyes were a warm brown.

"Honey," her mom started.

'Oh, boy. Here it comes.'

"I am so glad to see you. You are looking well."

Marie looked at her wet clothes, recalled her disheveled appearance and finally raised an eyebrow at Mrs. Felder.

Her maternal companion laughed. "You are so much like your father. He could always make me laugh, too.

"The Major," Marie asked incredulously. "I thought he was always so, hmm what's the word I'm looking for?"

"A stick in the mud." Misses Major finished.

Marie couldn't help but laugh at the amused expression in her mom's eyes.

"More or less, yeah," Marie replied.

"You didn't know him when he was young. He also had a very cynical sense of humor.

He was much more light hearted then."

"What made him change?"

Her Mother sighed and said, "Life, children to care for, a mortgage. He discovered that having a family was not all fun and games."

Marie looked down as her mom continued.

"The lightheartedness that I used to see in your Father, I see in you today. I don't know what you have been doing these past few days, but it's like you don't have the weight of the world on your shoulders."

Marie answered, "I've just come to realize, that, there are people in this world that had it a lot worse than I did. These past few days have made me realize my ridiculous self pity. Dad, may not have loved me the way I wanted, or even deserved. But, that was his issue, not mine.

I know that somehow, in his own way, he did love me."

"I'm glad to hear you say that, Marie. I have something to show you."

Lynette stood up and walked to her bedroom. Her lean, athletic figure moved like that of a graceful dancer. A career she had given up when she had met Marie's Dad. She disappeared briefly behind the bedroom door. A flash of Misses Felder's auburn hair flashed out of the doorway as she exited her room. She handed Marie a brown edged piece of paper. She flexed her fingers as she opened the folded paper. It was something she hadn't seen in nearly two decades. It was an essay she had written about her father. She had been eight years old at the time, Nickie, three. At that point in Marie's life she had been innocent and naïve. The feelings for her Dad still warm. When she looked at the kind words she wrote about the Major, she began to feel frayed. Like the paper she now held in her hands.

"Why My Daddy Is the Gratest. Spelling was not my best subject was it Mom," Marie said, laughing. "I can't believe how sincere I was when I wrote this, a time when my Dad could do no wrong in my eyes. A time I felt I could do no wrong in his, or at least foolishly thought so."

Her Mom remained quiet, eyes solemn, not giving her daughter the satisfaction of an answer.

"Mom, why did you decide to show me this now? To remind me what a horrible speller I was."

Lynette laughed at her daughter's remark and said, "Honey, it's not so much the essay itself, as much as it is about where I found it. About three months ago I was going through your Father's papers and important documents. I found it in his top desk drawer, among his will and life insurance of all places. He must have been looking at it not long before he died."

Her Mother's eyes misted and Marie fought to keep her emotions at bay.

"Mom, I really want to believe you."

"Marie, do you honestly think I would lie to you now. What would be the point. After all, you seemed to be coming to terms with Henry's death all on your own."

Lynette Felder paused for a moment to collect her thoughts, then continued, "Look, I'm not going to insult your intelligence and say you were his favorite. I mean, there shouldn't be favorites among traditional parents. But, as you know, your father was never traditional. He thought the sun rose and set on Nicole. What you don't know, Marie, is that, he didn't expect

much out of her. He never worried about you like he did, Nickie, because he knew you could take care of yourself. He was aware you had a good head on your shoulders. He knew you wouldn't change your mind fives times a day on one thing like your sister. You worried enough about yourself, so he felt he didn't need too."

"Mom, that still doesn't explain why he insulted me and didn't compliment my achievements. Instead, he exasperated me."

"Marie, are you trying to give me a vocabulary lesson?"

Marie would normally laugh at her mom's joke, but failed to crack a smile even with great attempt.

"All right, Marie. I'm not saying what Harry did was right. He was not just your Father, but my husband. I knew what he was then, and I know now. I loved your Dad very much, he was a good man. That doesn't mean he didn't have failings. "I'm sorry that in a way, you had to pay for that."

Marie looked at the essay again. The final line read, 'and becus he loves me,' reading the final sentence out loud

"Marie, you can take comfort in knowing that last line is true. I know that deep down you know that it's true, I think you may have always known."

Marie was about to ask why her mom had waited so long to tell her all this, but then she stopped herself. That is something she already knew. She was still recovering from her bitterness over her dad. Would she really have listened? She highly doubted it.

"Well, Mom, maybe your right. But, I just don't know if the fact makes me feel any better."

Her mom sighed in silent agreement, loosening her hands around her tea mug. Marie finally took a good look at her mother. She looked healthy enough, but, her eyes were so sad. Like the light behind them had gone out. Marie looked away from Misses Felder, ashamed of herself for not noticing sooner. She had been so in tune with her own pain, she hadn't been courteous with her mom's.

"Mom, are you okay?"

Her Mom looked up at her, smiling sadly. "Oh, I'm getting by, one day at a time. I miss him so much, Marie." A few stray tears ran down her cheeks and she brushed away at them.

Marie leaned over and put her arms around her. Mari found it slightly unnnerving. Their roles had been switched. Marie was the comforting adult,

Lynette, the hurt child.

"I do too, Mom."

Marie couldn't help but think, everything was going to be all right. As she sat there, comforting her mother, for a brief moment, she thought of Erik. She hoped he would come to that realization, too. Letting a few tears form and fall, she gently pulled away from her Mom.

Suddenly she started to giggle. Lynette looked at her like she had sprouted another head.

"Mom, do you remember the time Dad decided to take us to a Broadway musical. The only time, I might add."

Lynette's eyes lit up in recollection.

"How could I forget. You were twelve and Nicole was seven. That was some night."

"Yeah," Marie said, "Not only was it pouring down rain the night of the show, but, we couldn't even get a taxi. During our six block walk to the theater, Dad was muttering the whole time about stupid taxi services, and what a God forsaken city New York was. And, what happened when we finally got there? They had given our seats to someone else by mistake."

Her mom laughed. "Your Father was furious."

"Do you remember the scene he caused? Yelling at the ticket agent like he could do anything about it. Dad saying that if he didn't get reimbursed he would write a lengthy letter to the Tribune about his awful experience."

"Well, at least the manager was able to give us a practically, identical seating area," her mom said, between laughs.

"Yeah, right next to a couple who laughed like hyenas, and smelled like them too."

"Well, at least the laughing drowned out your Dad's snoring."

"Oh, I don't know Mom. I think one of the performers put ear plugs on."

They laughed like they hadn't in a long time. Tears of joy were shed, rather than despair.

"Afterwards, remember what he told the taxi driver on the way back home?"

Her mother had a blank look on her face for a moment and then, "Oh, you mean when the driver asked for a tip?"

"Yeah, he said: "'Here's a tip. Tell your cab service that when they start hiring intelligent people, then I will start tipping.'"

"Mom, I was mortified. That night should have been defined as horrible. But, frankly, it was one of the best nights of my life."

"One thing your forgot to mention, Marie. When you asked your Dad if he got anything out of the play, remember."

Marie smiled at the memory and replied, "Yeah, he said no. When I rolled my eyes he grinned and said, 'Except this.' He had picked me up and twirled me around, singing the closing number to me. Funny," she said, wistfully, "there were a few times I recall him being that kind. He seemed like a totally different person."

"Well, honey, stress can do funny things to people, even cause them to hurt the people they love.

So, when he wasn't stressed out, I think he was a different person. I just wish you could have seen more of that man. That's the man I fell in love with."

Marie let what her Mom said sink in and said, "Mom, tell me more about him."

Her mom spoke about the man her father could be, for over two hours. About how he fought for her, when another man had shown interest in her. About, when she was sad, he was the only one who could make her laugh. She told her how she could have sworn she saw tears in his eyes when he had held Marie for the first time. As Marie listened, she knew that she would always mourn the loss of the man she never knew. But, she also knew that she was now able to say goodbye to the Father she had lost.

Now, Marie was in her car, waving to her mother as she walked in the house. Marie glanced at the sky, traces of the storm long gone. A starry sky replaced it. She grabbed the CD her mother had given her as a gift. Her favorite composer's most popular pieces. She remembered the many times as a brooding teenager, she would lock herself in her room and drown out her misery with the beautifully, haunting melodies.

She put the disk in her player and let the music wash over her. Her spirit soared, her mind quieted as never before. Marie wondered if Erik had the chance, would he be able to compose touching songs such as these?

**Opera Populair- Christine's sitting room**

**December 4, 1890 2:00 pm**

"Say something, Christine. Anything but, the silence."

Christine drummed her fingers, trying to process everything she had heard.

"What do you want me to say, Meg?" Christine tapped her fingertips on the side table, her agitation apparent.

"Say you hate me, call me a liar, anything."

"Meg, this day has brought to my attention so much confusion. First Raoul's deceit, now I find out my friend has been hiding something from me for years. Meg, I don't hate you, I'm not even really angry. I just don't understand why you felt like you had to lie to me."

Meg stood up and paced the floor nervously. Even while stressed, Christine could see her natural grace. Christine envied her that, even with the extraordinary voice she herself was bestowed with.

"I don't know, Chris. I suppose I just felt I was taking something that rightly belonged to you.

What you have with Erik is special, Christine. I didn't want to take that away from you, over a few measly voice lessons. After all, singing is your passion, dancing is mine."

Christine stood up and walked over to wear Meg was now standing. Her blue day dress swished as she walked, reminding her of the unsteady ground she was on.

"Meg, firstly, do you honestly think I am some spoiled child that would demand all of Erik's attention? Secondly, if singing isn't your passion, why have you been taking lessons from Erik?

Meg seemed to stretch a little taller, as if trying to close the gap between their heights. Christine had a good three inches on Meg and it was a common tendency for the latter to attempt to increase her height during confrontational situations.

"Christine, I never thought you were a spoiled brat. But, you are emotionally connected to Erik and I was trying to be considerate of your feelings."

"Oh, by lying to me."

"I didn't say it was the right thing, I am just giving you an explanation. Something it seems that you wanted from me."

Christine took a step back, examining her like she was a sculpture. Christine sighed and said, "But, you didn't answer the other one. Why did you take lessons from Erik."

Meg didn't answer for a long time, making Christine wonder if she had heard her at all. Meg sat down at Christine's vanity and looked at herself in the mirror. She then threw her gaze at Christine's reflection, who was standing a short distance behind her.

"It was because, I needed to be seen, Christine. He filled a loneliness in me that for some reason couldn't be filled. As much as I love you and Momma, I felt somewhat empty. He helped me realize that it was within myself and that no one could fill it for me. In that, I was on my own.

I noticed he seemed to do the same for you. He's a special man, Christine. You know that as well as I do. I just wish he would fill that void within himself."

"That darkness," Christine interjected. She walked toward Meg pulled a chair over and sat next to her. "It can consume even the best people. As much as others want to help that person, their entirely on their own. Meg, do you think there is any hope, truly?"

"I think hope is all we have at this point, Christine. I have to stress this again Christine. I'm sorry I kept my relationship with Erik from you. He really cares for you. If anyone can help him, you can."

Christine leaned over and hugged her friend.

"With a little help from our blonde sidekick," she answered. They smiled at each other when they heard a knock.

"Ladies," someone called from the other side of the door, "time for rehearsal. Don Juan Triumphant. We are starting in ten minutes."

The girls stood up, walking slowly to the door. Christine broke the silence and said, "Why do I have a horrible feeling of dread, Meg?"

"Remember Christine, hope. At least we have that to hold on to."

"Marguerite, sometimes, you are annoyingly optimistic," Christine, jested.

"And wouldn't you, more often than not, be in the depths of despair if I wasn't."

They laughed as the walked out of the dressing room. They were aware that their troubles were far from over, that the phantom's opera could spell doom for everyone. Though, one thing was for certain, they did have hope. What better cause for joy than that?


	23. Remembering the Assassin

_Okay, it was recommended I write a summary of what has happened the past little while. Which makes sense because, there is a long time between updates. I figure, I wouldn't want to go back and review either. So, here goes. In the chapter: Help Me Say Goodbye, Meg and Raoul are discussing what happened between Buquet and himself. The deal he made with him regarding Christine. To scare her enough to send her running to Raoul's arms. A deal that went horribly wrong._

_Meg broaches the subject first, thinking Raoul thought her in the dark on the subject, because of her acting skills. She found out differently. He expressed that he was not proud of what he did, and he even told Christine. He more or less told Meg he didn't know what he would do without her. Followed by awkward silence on part of Meg. Meg proceeds by finding Christine, she had a confession to make as well._

_Angst anyone?_

_Skip ahead to present day. Marie goes to cemetery, to visit her father's grave. I know, a slightly more disturbing version of Christine's visit to her father's grave. What I mean by disturbing is relationship wise. No friend and father, warm and gentle here. Anyway, she comes to terms, somewhat, with her dad. Still a little cynical, but accepting. Big storm erupts, Marie gets drenched. Runs into mother at said cemetery. End chapter._

_Next chapter, which was the most recent was entitled: Teach Me to Live. Sam, has dream/nightmare regarding Erik. Basically, dream Erik told Sam in order for him to be saved, Sam had to kill him. Of course, Erik didn't mean this in a literal sense. Dream Erik and Sam share a moment and then Sam wakes up. Al is there and Sam tells him that he knows how to save Erik. _

_Meanwhile, present day, Marie is having heart to heart with her mother. Marie is shown a paper she wrote about her father. She was surprised to find that her dad had cherished it, a father whom she thought was apathetic. She came to find that though he had problems, he wasn't as bad as she remembered. They talked old times and Marie left on a good note. She listened to her favorite composer on the way home._

_Then, we go back to 1890 where Meg is confessing to Christine that the latter wasn't the only one who had a relationship with her angel. In fact, Meg was taking voice lessons. I'm sure you already figured this out, but, Meg was the other student Al mentioned early in the story. I also touched on Erik's and Meg's relationship in chapter seventeen. We find out that they have been friends for quite a while. Their connection through her mother. What might have caught Christine by surprise was Meg's motive. Meg desired companionship. Though, ironically, she always had it. She felt empty, and he helped her see that she was the only one who could fill it. No one could do it for her. _

_By end of chapter, Christine and Meg forgive each other . As for how long, who can say, but, they can survive anything. Don Juan rehearsal soon to ensue. Thank you to all that have reviewed._

**Remembering the Assassin**

Daroga quietly observed the rehearsal, nearly hiding in the curtain near the entrance of the stage. The rehearsals had been going on for a week, and he was stunned to find that every line, every action, and every move was perfection. Which was a good thing, considering the live performance was tonight. The Persian noticed something else, something that put him on edge. Besides the notes Madame Giry received for direction of Don Juan, Erik had not been seen or heard from. Though the context shouldn't be good or bad, this fact unnerved him. Erik had gave him his promise he wouldn't cause any extreme problems. Daroga remembers well what Erik was. He thought back to the day he saved the then assassin.

_He had been investigating the Shah, as well as Erik for quite some time. He was involved in several political assassinations. But, every single time Erik escaped, with no proof he had ever been at the crime scene. Then came the day he heard Erik was to be executed for crimes no doubt the Shah was behind, but of course never admitted._

_He had spoken with Erik the day before his scheduled execution. He remembers being disturbed by his blank eyes. Like all emotion in Erik had been stripped away. He kept saying the same thing over and over again. "It wasn't supposed to be like this. All I wanted was my music, my home, my life. Why couldn't they have just left me alone, why?"_

_Daroga figured the man had lost any sanity he had left and stood up to leave. Daroga suddenly felt a strong grip grasp his wrist. He looked down at Erik and saw burning eyes, full of emotion he thought the assassin had lost._

_He spoke with an oddly calm voice, though his eyes looked wild._

_"The fact that he does not want me to design a palace for anyone else is not the only reason I 'm here. I just couldn't let myself kill her."_

_He sat down slowly and listed to Erik's tale in stunned silence. When he had finished, Daroga pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger._

_"Erik, just because you didn't kill the princess of Afghanistan, doesn't mean you weren't guilty of all those other murders."_

_Erik was silent. I stood up and had just about left the cell when I heard, "You know what the most frightening thing in the world is?"_

_I looked at him in silent acknowledgment. _

_"When the line between right and wrong is not as blurry as it once was. You wake up one morning and wonder who the man in the mirror is. Wondering if the monster will always be a part of you. Do you know what I mean, Daroga?"_

_The policeman nodded slightly and walked out. Thinking he would never see Erik again._

_So he had thought. The morning of Erik's execution he had been in his bedroom, rubbing his face with his hands. He didn't understand why he felt so guilty. Erik was a killer, end of story. __He was shaving with a blade when he accidentally nicked himself. He cursed as he took a handkerchief and dipped it in the blue, water basin. He looked in the mirror and focused on cleaning up the cut on his chin. He met his own eyes and suddenly saw the haunting eyes of Erik, former assassin._

_Former, he thought, the lasso has barely cooled down. He put down the handkerchief and sighed. The cut had clotted over. Amazing how in such a short time the spurting of blood can disappear. But, it happens. "Oh, hell," he said aloud. He got out a pen. He had a lot of work to do in three hours._

_The Persian entered the jail, armed with the fake decree. He was going to free, Erik. The two of them were solemn as Daroga loaded Erik onto the freight. _

_"Persian, why are you helping me? You have put yourself in harms way in the process."_

_"Don't worry about me, Erik. I have my own plans. Erik, I don't think you're a monster, I just think you have been taught monstrous things."_

_Erik nodded and bowed his head in respect. He turned his back when Daroga grasped his arm. __Erik violently pulled his arm away, automatic defense from years of abuse, Daroga assumed._

_The Persian lifted his hands in a sign of peace and said: __"Erik, promise me you will never kill another person. Promise me."_

_"I give you my word, Sir." He turned at Daroga as a rat scurried across the deck. He asked,_

_"Where is this abominable ship taking me."_

_"Somewhere far away from here, Erik."_

_Erik bowed and left the Persian standing on the dock. Daroga sighed and waited for his transportation to pick him up. Two hours later, he boarded the next cargo ship and looked at his beloved Persia as he sailed away. As the ship sailed toward London and his unknown fate, he thought he would never hear or see Erik again._

_Until about three months ago, when he heard about the mysterious Opera Ghost that haunted the Opera Populair. He had been on an investigation in France when he heard the stories. No rumors of death, thank God. But, oddly familiar stunts that were to similar to Erik's to be coincidental. __When he heard about the commanding voice that came from everywhere and nothing he knew it was Erik. But, why of all places was he hiding in an opera house?_

This all brought him to now. Watching as the ballerinas pranced onto the stage. All of sudden, someone grabbed him around the neck and pulled him backwards. Daroga used his police training and counteracted the hold. Unfortunately, his supposed attacker seemed to expect it and maneuvered himself out of trouble. Daroga had been dragged into a seldom used walkway behind the stage. He spun around and faced his kidnapper. It was the man he suspected.

"Erik!" What were you trying to do? Send me to an early grave?"

"Do you really want an honest answer to that, Daroga?"

The Persian, exasperated, answered, "What do you want, Erik?"

Erik stepped back and ran his fingers over his chin. Daroga now noticed a new lightin Erik's eyes. He would go as far to say, determination.

"I need your help, old friend. This is not the life I wanted. As a child, I dreamed of people seeing me. The problem is, they never saw past my face. I want to make them see past my face. I don't want to hide anymore, Daroga. I have come to make peace with my past. Now, I just want a future. A future of music and life. A life of light, not darkness. Please help me."

Daroga's mind was unsettled. Can he trust, Erik? Is Erik telling the truth? Does he deserve a chance? He stood there for a few moments, pondering his decision.

Finally he said, "Okay, Erik. I will help you. What do you need me to do?"

"You are full of surprises, Persian. What made you change your mind about me?"

"Would you do me a favor and not call me that. I left that part of me behind when I left Persia."

"Okay, Bundle for Britain. Are you going to answer my question?"

Daroga bowed his head slightly and sighed. "You have given me no reason not to trust you."

He almost laughed at Erik's expression, despite the seriousness of it all. He looked perplexed.

"You kept your word for over fifteen years. Oddly enough, I don't mistrust you."

"In that case, I need you to deliver a message."

**December 10****th****, 1890-Madame Giry's Sitting Room**

Raoul eyed the tall Persian. He was shocked into silence as he looked around at his companions.

Meg was twirling her hair in nervousness, her mother was shaking her head in disbelief. Christine, well Christine looked like she would cry at the drop of a hat. After rehearsals, the now London police officer, who had been talking quietly to Madame Giry, called them over. He said he had something important to tell them about a certain protégé. Now, all of them in Madame Giry's sitting room, they couldn't believe who the protégé was.

Raoul finally spoke, "Mousier, you can't possibly be serious. If we do what your suggesting, it could be dangerous for all of us. Even the Phantom."

"Erik, all three women corrected."

Raoul sighed. "I can't imagine **Erik** would even suggest this."

"I could," both Antoinette and Daroga spoke simultaneously.

"Erik has been isolated for years." said the former, "I could see why he would want that to cease."

"I agree," replied the Persian. "Even more so now, there is something different about Erik.

To clarify, I still see Erik within him, but, it's as if some mystical force is with him."

"Mystical," Raoul scoffed, "the next thing we know we will have faeries in our midst."

"Raoul, put your pitchfork away. Mom, Daroga, if it will help Erik, I will help in any way I can."

Meg approached her mother, while giving Raoul a dirty look.

"So, at the very end of the third act, Christine will rip away Erik's mask and expose him to the audience? He doesn't want to hide anymore, eh? He's putting himself at risk for a mob and he may even get killed. People I care very much for could be hurt in the process."

His eyes darted to Christine and then they gazed over at Meg. His eyes held hers and he thought he saw a hint of a blush on her white cheeks.

Christine had been quiet throughout the entire conversation. She finally spoke up. rising from her perch on the small couch.

"I want to do this, everyone. I can do it, especially if it will help Erik."

Everyone looked resigned, scared, and a little excited all at once.

Madame Giry went over to Meg and Christine and put her arms around them.

She said, "Very well, Officer. How do we go about this?"

Raoul sat down, with so many feelings in a jumble, he felt vulnerable. He hated that feeling. As the Persian conveyed everyone's roles, Raoul wondered how often Erik felt this way?

**Present Day-Project Site**

"You seem different somehow, Marie."

Marie looked at Erik as the words floated around in her head. It had been nearly a week since she had seen him. Not from a lack of trying, but Erik refused to keep any company with her. Al had to do most of the counseling which always ended in an argument. Today was no different. She had been in the office doing research. For what, she was not sure. Ever since she had listened to that compact disc her mother had given her, she felt uneasy. Like she was missing something obvious, yet so difficult to reach.

She came to find that on December eleventh, eighteen ninety, Don Juan Triumphant was performed. The costumes had been disturbing, the music tantalizing, the audience had been on the edge of their seats. She was just about to read the most shocking occurrence in all opera history when she heard the shouting.

"Listen, you sewer rat. I have been trying to help you and all you can do is throw insults."

"Albert, I am simply pointing out your lack of understanding regarding nineteenth century Parisian society."

"Oh, so that's what you meant when you called me a know nothing, imbecile ."

Uh oh, Marie thought as she ran out the door of her office. She reached the door to the waiting room as Al was exiting it.

"That son of a…."

"Al," Marie interrupted, "I'll take it from here."

"Your sanity, not mine. I don't think he wants to see you anymore than he did yesterday."

"Well, I guess that's his problem, isn't it. I refuse to wait any longer. He's avoiding me because he's scared of something I said last week. He's going to have face this sooner or later. I'll be damned if it's later."

Marie had shoved past him into the room which brings her to now.

She had remained silent to his comment and decided to ignore it. She was not going to let him distract her anymore. This was about him after all, not her.

"Erik, you've been avoiding me. Why?"

Erik's composure remained the same. Cool and unmoved, though something flickered in his eyes. She couldn't tell whether it was annoyance or fear.

"I thought we had said what needed to be said last week."

"You thought wrong, Erik. The only thing we have learned from each other is your contempt for your parents, and my anger toward someone from my past. I understand why you turned into an assassin, though I don't condone it. I also understand why you hate people. But, I still don't understand how or why you went from skilled assassin to a musical hermit. Erik, I have one request. Tell me what happened in Persia."

Erik's eyes scanned her in appreciation and dare say, respect. He approached her slowly, though, Marie didn't feel like he was trying to intimidate her this time. She felt like he was approaching her as an ally. One he was about to confide in.

"I'm impressed, Doctor Felder. You abandoned the sugar coating and went straight to the meat. Something has happened to you, Felder. You forgave your mystery man, didn't you?"

Marie was about to call him out on trying to change the subject, when he beat her to the punch line.

" So, I suppose you want me to start my gruesome tale. I suggest you prepare yourself, Felder. In a way I never could."

Marie took a deep breath and let it out. She was just about to hear a story that would affect her for a long time to come.


	24. Past the Point of No Return

_**Author's Note: Hello, all. I'm sorry it has taken me so long to update. There will only be about three chapters after this one. I'm finally close to finishing. In fact, I will be posting my next chapter by the end of this week. I have the first draft of it done, so it just needs to be edited and cleaned up. **_

_**Now, let me give you a summary of the last chapter. If you need a summary of the last several chapters, there's a review in chapter 23. **_

_**Okay, in the last chapter we learned of the relationship between Daroga and Erik. When Erik was in Persia, he deliberately failed his assassination attempt on the princess of Afghanistan. On account of this, the Shah sentenced him to die for failing to start a war. The Persian helped him escape and made Erik promise to never kill again. So, Erik boarded a cargo boat to France.**_

_**Back in their present, Christine, Meg, Madame Giry, Raoul, and the Persian meet privately to discuss Erik's plan for Don Juan. What the plan may be is not entirely clear at this point. They all agree to it, though Raoul is reluctant.**_

_**Now, to present day, Project site. Erik and Marie have seemed to come to a truce. Erik is even willingly telling her about his days in Persia. Unfortunetly, things are not what they seem. That was the calm before the storm. I hope you enjoy, and thanks for those who have stayed with me during this long ride.**_

**Past the Point of No Return**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, except my imagination.**

Erik looked at her poised countenance and her erect posture. He noted the only hint of disarray was the few stray hairs that had fallen out of her hair bun. Another thing the man noticed was that she looked relaxed, confidant, and daresay warm. She seemed so much more at peace than she had on previous meetings. Marie had forgiven him, whoever _him_ was. For some reason he found that to be a comfort to him. He had no idea how she would respond to what was to come. He didn't want that inner peace to be halted.

He took a deep breath and began his tale.

**Opera Populair-Curtain Call**

**December 10****th**** 1890 7:45 PM**

Christine's heart pounded. It was fifteen minutes before the performance. Madame Giry was supervising the cast's preparation for the opening act. Meg was stretching her long limbs. Raoul was in box five of all places. Erik was somewhere watching, ready to make his entrance. Piangi, well Piangi was in a huff because he was told he wasn't needed. She began to breath heavily, and she came to a decision. No matter what happened she would stay by Erik's side. The managers Andre and Fermin made the announcment that the performance would start in five minutes.

Christine jumped when she felt Erik's hand grasp hers. He blended in well with cast, his costume and mask his invisible armor. Nobody suspected he wasn't Piangi. She glanced at him. His eyes were down cast and his palms were clammy. The normally calm and collected phantom was as nervous as she was. She smiled when he turned to look at her and he tried and failed to return it. The curtain suddenly parted, it was time.

**Present Day-Project Waiting Room**

As Marie listened, she quietly meditated on his words. Apparently, after he had been sold from the Gypsies his new master had wound up taking him to Persia to serve in his household. When he had found out about his talent for the arts he used it to his advantage. Erik was also talented in his use with the lasso. Taking into consideration his history of emotional and physical abuse helped his master make up his mind. The Persian king would be delighted to have his own personal assassin.

When he had been presented to the Shah, he at once started to inspect his person like he was an insect. His eyes glowed with wickedness. Marie was not surprised to learn that the Shaw had paid a good sum of money for Erik. He had ordered his training to begin immediately.

What Erik said next peaked her attention.

"My _training_ was continuous and exhausting. I was taught how to immobilize a man with one flick of my fingers. By the time I was through, I could strangle someone in moments with a lasso. I could snap a neck with ease. Swords and knives became my talent and passion, like that of a seamstress with her needle. It was like I became as one mind with my weapons."

Marie kept her face neutral, though it was difficult. The way he spoke of his violent past made Marie slightly uneasy. He spoke as if recalling an exciting memory. She swallowed her fear and asked him what she had wanted to for a long time.

"Erik, when you performed your duties as an assassin, what were your feelings? How did you feel when you were taking lives?"

Erik's eyes danced as he answered, "It was exhilarating! When ever I saw a life being drained on account of my own hands… I guess I felt….. elated. Then a feeling of great satisfaction would wash over me."

He started to stalk towards Marie, his eyes blazing, his countenance dark. He glided like a panther. He stopped less than a foot in front of her and said, "I am capable of just about anything, Doctor. I am also not afraid to go to extremes to get what I want."

Marie suppressed a shudder and the hairs on the back of her neck, stood up. She had forgotten how to breath. These sensations were not pleasant. His eyes had a look of violence, not seduction.

"Remember Felder, when I told you I could kill with a flick of my fingers. Well, you may want to find a way to send me back, or you may end up experiencing that first hand."

Marie's blood stilled. Her heart stopped.

_What have I gotten myself into?_

**December 10, 1890 8:15 pm**

**Don Juan Triumphant**

"_**Serve the meal and serve the maid. Serve the master so that, when tables, plans and maids are laid Don Juan triumphs once again!"**_

Sam breathed deeply, knowing his cue was seconds away. He thanked God that he had a photographic memory, otherwise he had no doubt he would flub his lines. His nerves were rattled. He couldn't help but second guess his decision. Was he doing the right thing? Wasn't it ultimately Erik's right to reveal his opus? Would he want himself to be revealed in this way? Sam also regrettably remembered what happened in Webber's play when Don Juan was performed. What made him think he could change the outcome? What if this had happened in the original history and it ended badly, what makes him think he can do better?

_Jeez, Beckett. Get a hold of yourself. I could play the what if game forever. Just stay calm and have faith. Yeah, that's it. _

Sam noticed one of the actors waving him toward the stage wildly. He was on and just about to blow everything if he didn't get out there. Just as he took a step he stopped. He felt odd. A wave of nausea hit him and his mind felt clouded. He started to feel an increase in anxiety. He recognized this feeling, and it filled him with horrific realization.

_No, not now. No, not now Erik!_

**Present Day- Project Site **

**Waiting Room**

Marie trembled, trying to keep her emotions under control. Losing it now would only make things worse. One touch of a button could get security there. She couldn't help but think she would be dead before she could touch the button.

"Marie?"

She looked up and saw the change in his eyes instantly. He looked confused and his eyes were kinder. It was Doctor Beckett.

"Sam, Oh my God!"

Marie threw her arms around him in relief and joy. She hadn't seen Doctor Beckett in years and she couldn't be happier to see him, especially now.

"Doctor Beckett. How are you…what are you…..? Oh, I don't care, you're here and that's what's important."

"Doctor Felder, I would ask why you are hugging me, but we don't have time."

He stroked her back a couple of times in comfort and gently pulled away.

"I don't know how long I'll be here, but I have a feeling it won't be long. What have you found out about Erik?"

Marie furrowed her brow as she answered, "He seems to have sociopathic tendencies. When he spoke of his assassinating days he seemed proud of his accomplishments and unfeeling toward the victims. Though, oddly, my previous analyses proved to be more positive. When he spoke of his mother I sensed a lot of hatred and also a lot of love. He didn't act as though he couldn't comprehend the pain of others. I was so sure he was on the path to recovery. What I just saw, disproves that theory."

Marie shook her head in frustration directed not only at Erik, but herself.

"What happened, Marie?"

"He acted like he was about to kill me. Despite the darkness of this man, I never felt in danger for my life while with him. I felt like I was with another person."

"Maybe you were."

"Okay, Doctor Sam, who has the degree in Psychiatry, you or me?"

Marie gave him a slight smile, showing him that she was kidding. Doctor Beckett however, was not amused.

"Marie, I'm serious." Sam stopped in midstream. He tensed and his eyes looked panicked.

"Marie, he's coming back. Listen to me, Erik was lying. I know for a fact that his murdering days are over. Call it a hunch, call it the weird connection between us, I don't know. I do know that he was trying to scare you."

Marie grabbed his shoulders as if willing him to stay.

"Sam, I can't do this. What if your hunch is wrong. I can't handle him anymore."

Sam fought to stay, though his control was slipping by the second.

"Marie, are you listening to yourself? Since when have you ever backed down from anyone. You're the one who once scared…"

"A rabid dog, I know Sam. That story has been exaggerated. It was a growling dog. Sam, I am trying to find my way back to the person I was supposed to be, if that makes sense. I have felt so much more calm since I started that process. I don't want to go backwards."

Sam laughed though his continuous struggle for control was getting to him.

"Marie, Al told me about the change in you and I have to say I had my doubts. After seeing the proof right in front of me, I can't help but believe. Doctor, I have to tell you, I think it's great that you are finding peace with yourself. You want to be a good person and it shows, but Marie, that doesn't mean you have to give up the Barracuda. She's a part of you and has to be let out once in a while. All you have to remember is you control her, not the other way around."

"You sound like a fortune cookie, Beckett."

"Oh, that's the spirit. Now, you have to find out what Erik is up to. He doesn't mean what he's telling you. I have no doubt you can get it out of him."

"You're the one with the this spiritual connection, don't you know?"

"I know that Beckett was wrong about our _connection_."

"Erik, what a pleasant surprise."

**December 10, 1890 8:30 pm**

**Don Juan Performance**

"_**Now I am here with you; no second thoughts, I've decided, decided …"**_

Sam was slowly coming to awareness. He couldn't believe the feelings within Erik when he returned. The man known as the Phantom, had been experiencing sensuality and eroticism, and…love. The feelings had been so strong he had nearly been knocked over by the power of them. If he had any doubts before whether these two loved each other, he had no doubt now. He started to focus as he ascended the stairs with Christine who was across from him on the other staircase.

"_**When will the blood begin to race, the sleeping bud burst into bloom?"**_

He could honestly say his blood was racing right now. He began to sing with her, the air crackling between them. They approached each other slowly on the balcony, now she was barely a foot in front of her. Despite the passion in the air, he couldn't help but start to feel anxiety creep up once again. It was almost time!

**Present Day-Waiting Room**

Erik felt rage build in him once again. He had been back. He had seen Christine, his angel. Why wouldn't they let him go? He stalked toward Doctor Felder, his mind only on one thing, to escape. He was angry, his mind full of blood lust. He recognized the familiar exceleration of his heart. He felt his blood pumping and his adrenaline rising. All he could think about was the kill. Erik was not Erik anymore, he was now the cold blooded assassin.

He reached Marie and extended his hands toward her neck. She tried to run, but he was to fast for her. His hands wrapped around her neck and he began to squeeze. His eyes seemed to cloud as he continues his assault. He felt her high pulse rate. He could feel the soft, fragile skin of her neck, which excited him further. Out of the haze, he finally noticed her lack of struggling. She was not fighting him, she was just motionless. He didn't understand.

Then, as if not his own intent, he looked into her eyes. What he saw shocked him to the core. He shook his head, coming out of his trance. His eyes didn't leave hers as he unwrapped his hands from her neck. Her eyes hadn't shown fear or disgust, he saw sadness and pity in there depths. Those eyes haunted his dreams for years. The memory of that night long ago assaulted him, like he had done to the innocent woman before him. Shame, anger, and confusion swept over him. He fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around Marie's legs.

"I'm so sorry, Marie. Please, please forgive me. Help me."

He said the last part quietly, ashamed of his weakness.

He felt her fall down beside him and she wrapped her arms around him. Suddenly he felt warm lips on his forehead. She had kissed him. No one had ever kissed his warped face. Then he heard words that warmed his heart.

"I will, if you let me."

**Outside the Imaging Chamber**

"Ziggy, are you sure? Oh, Jeez."

"Admiral, will you tell me what is transpiring?"

"Gooshi, Ziggy says that Erik and Christine were killed by a mob on December tenth, eighteen-ninety. It happened during the performance of Don Juan."

"But Admiral, Ziggy has had minute information on Erik's history, is she sure?"

"I am sure, Mister Gooshi."

Ziggy rarely spoke, so when she did you were bound to notice. Gooshi listened patiently, while Al shifted his weight from left to right.

"The Paris Gazette reads as follows: _On December 10, 1890 a crowd of people lost control and killed five people in the process. During the perfomance of Don Juan Triumphant, (composer unknown) an unknown interruption at the end of the first act caused a frenzied mob. At approximately 8:45 pm the audience in a moment of terror, stampeded up the stage. Out of the five casualties, two of them were the performers. __One known as the Opera Diva, Christine Dae, and the other, an unknown male._

_When the witnesses were questioned, none could identify him._

"_**I don't know what happened, that face,"**__ was the reply of one the witnesses. Many were interviewed and gave no more of an explanation. This tragedy is still under investigation. No more leads as to the cause or any evidence of planned sabotage. The question remains, was this just a horrible accident, or a vicious crime of passion?"_

"Sam," Al started, "Why did you have to do this?"

Gooshi looked at him in question.

Al breathed in and said, "Sam told me he was going to reveal Erik to the world. During the performance he and Christine would take his mask off together. That's got to be the reason a mob breaks out. I have to warn him."

Gooshi remained silent as he went to the control panel. Al walked into the imaging chamber.

"I told him what happened in Webber's play was a bad omen," Al muttered to himself.

**Meanwhile, Back in the Waiting Room**

Marie's heart began to slow to its normal rate. Relief and compassion washed over her in waves. She was overcome with what seemed like a thousand emotional sensations.

_When Erik had first attacked her, flight was her first instinct. She had tried to run, but he caught her easliy. At first she fought and struggled, trying to get away from his overpowering hands. She remembered struggling to breath, so close to blacking out. This man that was determined to kill her had taken over Erik. It was Erik, yet it wasn't. The anger was his, but the cold hatred wasn't. This wasn't the man who cried in front of her._

_Marie noticed he was getting exctited by her fear and struggle, so she stopped fighting. __Her body went limp and Marie immediately noticed Erik's confusion. His enjoyment seemed to falter and his grip weakened slighlty. She also noticed he hadn't looked into her eyes once. At this point for some strange reason, she began feel the sensation of calmness. Her fear dissolved into sadness, like the ocean after a storm. This pathetic man just wanted to go home. Looking back, Marie had no idea why she thinking so clearly. The man had been strangling her to death. This she no longer questioned, she was just grateful to be alive._

_She remembered distinctly the moment he made eye contact with her. Erik had Sam's eyes alight with rage, then suddenly they changed. The rage had vanished, the emotion in them went from fear, to horror, and then finally to regret. His hands had released her neck swiftly. He had dropped to the floor and had clung to her legs like a small child._

Marie looked at him now, still holding him. She doesn't know what possessed her to kiss him; it had just felt right at the time.

Erik finally spoke, looking into her eyes; eyes that were as calm and peaceful as a brook.

"Doctor Felder, I am through fighting. I just want to go home even if it is, um what did you call it, a sewer?"

Marie smiled softly, "You got it and I understand."

Erik smiled back and then it fell from his lips. His hands held hers and they were face to face. He released her fingers and touched her face, carressing it. Marie was beyond shocked. She leaned into it, pleased with the affection. Jason always used to do that, in fact Erik reminded her a little of Jason, minus the homicidal tendencies.

Marie never noticed how close her face had gotten to his, but now she saw his lips were barely an inch from hers. She moved half the distance, giving Erik permission. He took it. His lips were surprisingly gentle and warm and at the same time, passionate. For someone who didn't have a lot of experience in this department, he seemed to know what he was doing. He brushed his hands up and down her back as his mouth began to gently suck on her bottom lip. Then, he gently pulled away.

His eyes mirrored hers, total and complete shock. Then, the unexpected happened. They started to laugh. They laughed purely until tears were escaping their eyes. Erik took her hands and stood, assisting her off the floor.

"I suppose that was bound to happen sooner or later," Erik said, the smile still plastered on his face.

Marie smiled back and said, "I don't know about you, but I feel much better."

"I agree, Doctor Marie." His smile brightened his face, it made him, well Sam look ten years younger.

"Erik, you have a nice smile, you should give them away more often."

"So do you, Doctor, but don't think I can't see the curiosity in your eyes. You don't want to talk about smiles, do you?"

Marie looked down, stepping back a few paces. She felt more calm and sure then she had in a long time. She put a hand through her blonde hair, it felt amost foreign with it loose and down. I guess the same could be said of Erik and herself. No games between them, no hardball, cards right on the table, hair loose and demeanors straightforward. She knew things would be okay from that moment on.

"Am I that easy to read, Messieur Phantom?"

"You do not hide your emotions as well as you think, Marie. So, what do you want to know?"

Marie felt like someone who had just won the lottery. Finally, there would be answers. She felt her blood pumping and her energy returning. She straightened her posture and strode toward him with purpose. No doubt about it, the Barracuda had returned.

"Masks off, Erik. No more hiding, I need you to be frank. I am sick of shoveling, if you get my drift."

Erik's eyes sparkled and he relaxed his stance and said, "Yes, Mademoiselle. I have done my share of shoveling as well, if you get _my_ drift."

Marie nodded and smiled her understanding. Then the smile disappeared for the serious question about to be asked.

"Erik, what made you stop strangling me?

**December 10, 1890 8:45 pm**

**Performance of Don Juan**

"_**We've past the point of no return."**_

Sam's heart pounded as the last words before the revealing were sung. His hands were over Christine's at her chest, and yet he could still feel her excelerated heart rate. She was just as scared as he was. Suddenly he heard a familiar voice.

"Sam, we've got a big problem."

There behind Christine was Al. Despite the God awful colors, Sam couldn't be more happy to see anyone. Then the words registered. He looked at him questionally.

Al looked extremely worried and he sounded breathless.

"Sam, don't go through with it. Ziggy says you wil both die if you take off that mask."

Sam's eyes widened in astonishment as Christine's character turned to look at him. She immediately saw the expression in his eyes and she silently questioned him. Her eyes told him they didn't have to go through with it.

"The mob is going to break out in twenty seconds, Sam."

Sam had half of that time to make his decision and he came to it in less than that.

He nodded at Christine, who looked scared but complied. She slowly lifted her hand to his mask, it shook on its ascent.

"What are you doing, Sam," Al shouted.

Sam gave him a look that said_ trust me._ Al groaned and held his head, clearly thinking the kid was crazy.

Christine's hand reached the mask and Sam reached up and held it with her. His finger carressed her, letting her know that he was ready. Their hands shook as they both lifted the mask from his face. The crowd's response was utter silence.


	25. The Phoenix Rises Again

_**The Phoenix Rises Again**_

_**Present Day **__**Waiting Room **_

"_I was assigned to assassinate the Princes of Afghanistan. The King had refused to a trades treaty. So, the Shah wanted to start a war. What better way to start a war than have a Persian assassin kill the King's daughter. Well, I gathered up my lasso, and other tools of the trade so to speak, and took the boat to my next conquest._

_I remember being outside of her bed chamber. I had made my way up to her balcony trying to get a lay of the land. There was one lamp burning on her vanity. The light glowed off of her. She looked like an angel ,that was no matter to me. I had a job to do. __I made my way over the balcony toward the next bedroom window. As I did so, I heard the girl's voice erupt in song. Her voice was like that of a song bird and it caused me to deter slightly. My eyes had closed for a few short moments taking in the beauty of the sound._

_You remember I told you of my love for music long before I came to the opera house. __What little free time I had was spent composing. Long before then, I would hum quietly as I was being beaten by that gypsy. Music was my passion, my protector, my friend. __So, when I heard that child sing, my spirit soared. Her voice was the most beautiful I had heard; that is until I met Christine." _

_Erik paused and Marie said softly, "That's why you love her so much."_

_Erik eyes were soft as he replied, "That is one reason among many others."_

_He hadn't bothered to deny it, his little friend seemed to know when he was lying. He organized his thoughts and continued his tale._

"_When I had snapped out of it, I worked my way into the room next to her's. I sneaked quietly through it. When I made it to the door, I listened carefully to the sounds on the other side of it. I had been trained to use all my senses, my ears would work as my eyes. By the sounds, I could tell there were two guards outside the princess's room. I won't bore you with the details, but let's just say the guards came rope to neck with my lasso. They hadn't even heard my steps. I was after all, considered unmatchable in my skill._

_I entered the princess's room slowly. She hadn't stopped singing, which made me pause in my pursuit. That wasn't so intelligent, for she saw my reflection in her mirror. She was about to scream, but I leaped behind her and covered her mouth, muffling her screams. I was never so sloppy. The distraction of her voice surprised me. I was always so focused and that girl was able enchant me. __My lasso went around her neck and she struggled. As you probably discovered, that exhilarates me. As we fought she managed to rip off my mask. We were both immobile and silent at that moment. I had stopped squeezing and she had stopped fighting. __You are probably wondering by now what this has to do with your question. Why did I stop attacking you? Well, dear Doctor, the answer is simple, your eyes. Those brown eyes that held the same expression as that poor girl."_

_Doctor Felder looked intrigued and involved in his story. Her eyes were wide and intense, focused on him. The expression __dear caught in headlights_ went through his mind, though he wasn't sure of its meaning.

"Marie, when she tore off my mask I was expecting horror and disgust. Her eyes conveyed neither. They were sad and compassionate. I do not comprehend her next action, nor am I sure that she did. That little girl, no older than thirteen, touched my face. No fear in her eyes, no judgement. At that very same moment I felt something I had never felt before. I felt remorse, guilt, and shame. Those emotions frightened me. They made me feel weak and fragile. At the same time, I knew I couldn't go through with my task. I could not destroy this child anymore than I could destroy a lark. I came there that night to kill a princess; I left a saved man and blood guilt free."

Marie's eyes seemed to mist as she tugged on her white coat. No doubt this gesture was to hide her emotions, but Erik new her better. She was touched by his story which made him feel touched. Ironic, two people who hated being emotional were about ready to expose weakness. Marie strolled up to Erik and looked him straight in the eye.

"Erik, are you saying you didn't kill that girl?"

"Yes, Marie, that is precisely what I'm saying. After I loosened the lasso around her neck and set her free, we didn't speak. It was almost as if silent understanding came between us. She sat down once again in front of her vanity and I left. It was the oddest exchange after the worst moment in my life. Ironically, it became one of the best."

"What happened afterwards."

Erik smiled without humor and organized the thoughts for his next reply.

"I was not a stupid fellow, the moment the Shah found out I had failed, I knew I was as good as dead. I didn't bother to hide, for reasons I am not even sure of now. I returned to my quarters and slept as if nothing had happened. The next morning, the Shah's army forced there way into my chambers. They told me I was under arrest for failing to uphold the Shah's orders."

Marie's eyes became daggers at the injustice of it all.

"He couldn't do that. He couldn't possibly reveal the reason of your arrest. If he had, he would have at the least been exiled from the crown."

"Oh, Marie, I appreciate your outrage regarding my arrest, but it was just a matter of my word against his. He claimed I had agreed that I would not design a palace for anyone other than he, and that I had gone back on my word. That was nearly as criminal as planning to assassinate him. Anyway, the next morning my execution was announced. As you can see, that failed to happen. One, who I suppose could be called a friend, saved me. He had a high position with the law and he found out about my innocence. Well, at least of that crime. He helped me escape and start anew. This new place happened to be Paris."

He felt wistful as he conveyed his final thought. "I made a promise to him, one that I have not broken since."

Marie put her hand on his shoulder and said, "What would that be, Erik?"

Erik took her hand from his shoulder and caressed it.

"I promised him I would never kill again. More importantly, I promised myself. I am not going to lie and say I was never tempted. There were so many times I wanted to; but every time temptation nearly got the better of me, I pictured the princess's eyes. Those were always my safe haven. Then, when I met Antoinette, my guardian angel; Meg, my conscience and kindred spirit; and Christine, my angel of music and light to my roadway. I found that I didn't need those eyes anymore. I had angels on earth to guide me."

Marie looked down, overcome by some emotion Erik couldn't decipher. He took her chin in his hand and lifted her face. He looked into her eyes.

"And you, you Marie. Do you know what you did for me? You made me realize that those angels may be a gift, but my peace had to come from within. I cannot rely on anyone else to make me happy. I need to accept myself, before I can accept anyone else."

"You almost got it right, Erik." Marie had now stepped away and was appraising him like a teacher would a student.

"The fact is, accepting yourself is all fine and good, but you left out the most important point. Love, you need to love yourself before you can truly love anyone else."

"Marie, is this where I cue the violins."

"I'm serious, Erik. If you only knew how much you have to offer, you would take my advice seriously. Erik, please don't let the world miss out on an artist like you. Your humor isn't half bad either, though I think you give yourself more credit than you should in that department."

Erik smiled and approached Marie, wrapping his arms around her. She clung to him, as if say goodbye to a best friend.

"Marie, I promise you, the world will see me somehow, however, you must promise me the same."

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with joy. "I promise."

Erik felt a strange feeling wash over him and he started to feel unnerved.

"Marie, something's happening."

**December 10, 1890 8:50 pm**

**Mask Reveal**

Sam stared at Christine while the crowd remained silent. A person could hear a pin drop it was so quiet. Sam knew he only had a matter of seconds before the crowd lost their precious hold on control. Sam did the only thing he thought might work. He knew Erik would approve.

"_**Masquerade, paper faces on parade, masquerade. Hide your face so the world will never find you. Masquerade! Every face a different shade. Masquerade! Look around there's another mask behind you! **_

Christine taking the hint, joined him in duet.

_**Faces, drink it in, drink it up, till you've drowned in the light, in the sound…."**_

At this point Erik and Christine had descended the bridge and were now directly on stage. They held hands, supporting each other in what seemed like an impossible feat. They faced the transfixed audience as the belted out Erik's song. Suddenly, they weren't so alone anymore. Meg and her mother came out on stage and joined them with…

"_**But who can name the face? Masquerade! Grinning yellows, spinning reds…**_

_**Masquerade! Take your fill let the spectacle astound you."**_

To Sam's surprise, Raoul came up and joined the performance. The song was near its end and so was the stall. Sam only hoped it had worked…. Apparently, it had. The audience, the very same that had formed a mob in the last time line, joined in.

"_**Masquerade! Grinning yellows, spinning reds… Masquerade! Take your fill let the spectacle astound you."**_

Then all was silent. Sam felt Meg take his other hand. He also noticed that the entire cast was on the stage. They all linked hands and bowed, bowed again, then waited. The audience was quiet, which made Sam more nervous. He looked over at Al, who was checking out hand held Ziggy. He had no expression that Sam could read. Then he saw Al break out into a smile. At the exact same moment, the crowd erupted in applause. There was thundering clapping and whistling. Sam smiled in relief. All around him he vaguely heard comments from the crowd.

"_He is most unusual looking… his voice is like than of an angel… his face may look scary, but it gives him personality… I wonder if he's married."_

Cast member after cast member came up and hugged him, those of which had no idea who this mystery man was. They didn't seem to question it. A few questions that he heard being discussed among them, however, were logical ones._ Where was the mysterious Phantom of the Opera? This is his opera, after all, why hasn't he made his presence know? Do you think it could be him? Well, I doubt he would admit it if we asked. _Well, they probably will never know for sure.

When Sam managed to get to a quiet corner, he and Al discussed the Phantom's future.

"So," Al started, "according to Ziggy, the opera was reported in the papers. They mentioned the mysterious deformed performer with the voice of an angel, but didn't mention a name. It was never revealed Erik was the opera ghost. Though he was suspected by the residents of the opera house; more specifically, when the opera ghost disappeared at the same time the unmasked performer did."

"Okay, so what happened to him?"

"I'm getting there, Sam. According to Parisian records, Erik did come forward about his birthright, oddly he refused it."

He was about to continue, but Raoul approached. He had a man with him. His companion had dark hair and green eyes. Sam felt those eyes looked familiar. Raoul spoke, his eyes looked at peace.

"Erik, I have to say, a job well done. You handled the crowd with grace and dignity. I admire that. I hope that we can put the past behind us. No worries, I am not suggesting bosom friendship. I would like to start over, though."

Raoul extended his hand which Sam accepted. They shook hands with firm grasps, a little too firm. Well, this wasn't a fairytale, but they would no longer be enemies. Sam smiled and Raoul smiled back. His companion cleared his throat.

"Oh, how rude of me. Erik, this is my brother, Philipe. Philipe, this is the performer who stunned Paris, Erik."

They shook hands as Sam tried to keep a straight face. Philipe was the next in line for Count after Erik.

"Erik, I am pleased to meet you. I was much impressed by your performance. I must say that took a lot of courage. I just came to say, you are welcome at the De Chagney estate at any time."

"Thank you, Sir. I appreciate the invitation."

Before Philipe could respond, Andre called, "Raoul, you must meet the Countess De Bourgh."

Raoul looked exasperated and apologized, "Pardon us, Erik."

Philipe bowed as he followed his brother, looking as annoyed as the latter.

"Al," Sam whispered, "Erik let Philipe have the title, didn't he?"

"As perceptive as ever, Sam. Yeah, the masked monkey gave it up for pretty boy."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Does Ziggy have any explanation?"

"Well, according to records, which are vague regarding this guy, he moved from Paris.

Apparently he resided in London until his death. He went by the name Erik Dubois."

"Wait a minute. Erik Dubois? He was a famous composer."

"I know, Sam. I'm telling you, remember."

Sam ignored his sarcasm and asked, "Did he ever marry?"

Sam looked across the room at the two main women in Erik's life.

"Yep, but not for a while. He does end up marrying Christine, but not until years from now. Christine and Erik went there separate ways after the famous opera. She didn't come in contact with him again until 1894, when Erik requested her to star in a comedic opera he had composed."

Sam looked incredulously at Al.

"Are you saying Erik composed an operatic comedy?"

"I know, it's like finding out John Wayne starred as James Bond. It just doesn't make sense. Anyway, Christine agreed to play the lead and and one thing leads to another. Well anyway, let's just say they finally passed the point of no return."

Sam looked at Meg, the lights shown brightly on her, making her look angelic.

"What happens to Meg?"

"Well, she and Raoul tried for a while. but things didn't work out. She ended up becoming a Countess. Guess who she marries?"

"You can't be serious. Philippe? Meg marries Philippe?"

The moment Sam says this Raoul was introducing Philippe to Meg. She smiled up at him as he kissed her hand. Sam noticed Raoul was not to thrilled.

"Meg keeps in contact with Erik and Christine over the years. In fact, they become godparents to each other's children. According to Meg's memoirs, though she loved her husband and always remained faithful, a part of her never got over Erik."

"Well Al, I don't think Erik ever completely got over Meg. I have no doubt that Christine was Erik's heart soul, but I think Meg was his strength. I believe a part of him loved her, too."

"I can't belief this hermit had so many women. Speaking of which, Madame Giry, aka sexy librarian, ends up managing the opera house. Raoul ends up sailing with the military for two years. He fell in love with a woman in Ireland. Wow, he even dedicated an opera house to his oldest brother's name."

"I guess that indicates he and Erik become friends," Sam said.

Sam suddenly noticed a dark shadow in the corner of the stage. It was the Persian. He bowed and Sam bowed in return. The man seemed to smile, though, Sam could not be sure from his viewpoint. The Persian disappeared into the darkness.

"Al, what happened to the Persian?"

Al looked puzzled and looked up from the little monitor.

"Ziggy has no data on him. It is suspected he was the famous English inspector, Peter Davis of the nineteenth century. His first language was Persian, though he never spoke it in public. He was killed in 1905 when he brought down a mass murderer. His body was never found. There have been theories that he escaped to a tropical island and lived out the rest of his days in affluent luxury. Who knows for sure."

"Another Phantom," Sam said quietly.

At that moment Raoul came up to him with a small woman trailing behind him. The woman was no taller than five feet three inches and had light brown hair. Her eyes were a green hazel and her skin was ivory.

Raoul extended his hand to the woman and said, "Erik, I would like you to meet my mother.

"Oh, boy." At that exact same moment, Sam leaped.

**Present Day- Project Waiting Room**

"Marie, something's happening."

Marie had been so caught up in the moment his last words had jolted her to attention. He had pulled away from her and was now grasping her by the shoulders.

"What is it, Erik?"

"It's happening. I'm going home, Marie."

Instead of feeling relief she felt sad and resigned

She grabbed a hold of Erik's forearms and said, "Erik, promise me the Phoenix will rise again. Don't hold back. Love with your whole heart. I would threaten you not to tell anyone what I just said, but those people aren't even aware of my existence."

Erik laughed, "Oh, Marie. Don't ever change and don't hide yourself. Don't waste half your life in loneliness like I did. How do you people put it, life sucks…..but don't let it stop you from living it."

Marie laughed and gave him one last hug. Then she looked into his eyes and said, "I won't forget you."

"Nor I you."

Sadness washed over Marie, she knew everyone who returned to there time forgot about there time in the future.

"I won't, Marie. I give you my word of honor."

"Goodbye, Opera Ghost."

"Goodbye, pain in my…"

Marie felt the hands on her waist release her. The person in front of her backed away, looking confused and disoriented. Erik was gone.

**Author's Note: Okay, this is not the end. I have about two chapter's left, give or take. I have to finish Marie's storyline. I don't think I'm quite finished with the other characters, either. There are still a few revelations coming.**


	26. Say You Love Me

_**Say You Love Me**_

_**Author's Note: Okay, so, Erik married Christine and they had children. Meg married Raoul's brother and all of them made peace with each other. Erik became the famous composer known as Erik Dubois. Marie is coming to terms with the fact that Erik's gone. The CD her mother bought for her makes an appearance and a revelation occurs. Sorry if there are any spelling/grammatical errors, my spell check is on the fritz. My editing went through a longer more painful process. Oh, well. Enjoy!**_

_Marie sat quietly at her desk, her thoughts disquieting and __melancholy__. Despite the changes in her life the past little while, she still felt uncomfortably vulnerable. She had yet to see Al, or check with Ziggy about Erik's new life. She didn't know what was stopping her from doing so. __Was she afraid, and if so, of what? __She took out the cd her mother had given her and inserted it into her computer drive. Her anxieties quickly faded as she let the melody caress her. She was rudely interrupted with a loud knock at the door._

"_What?!"_

_Marie's tone of voice scared even herself._

_Al popped his head through the crack in the door._

"_Woe, I come in peace. If you want I can get a white flag."_

"_Calavicci, I'm not in the mood. Take your flag somewhere else."_

_Al ignored her and walked in, sitting down across from her. She stood up and stepped around her chair. Marie could only imagine her appearance. She had been crying, so her mascara was probably smeared beyond recognition. Marie's mouth was set in a grim line, probably making her look twice the twenty eight years she had to her name._

"_Marie, are you okay?"_

_Her back was to Al, which is why she jumped when he spoke. It was like she had forgotten he was there. Al's kind words were unexpected as well as guilt wrenching. Could she feel any worse?_

_She turned toward Al and sighed, "I'm sorry, Al. Yes, I think I will be."_

_She sat down, rubbing her hands on her face._

"_He really got to you didn't he?"_

_She was about to respond angrily when she caught the look in his eyes. He wasn't trying to insult her, he was __genuinely __concerned._

"_What I feel for him, Al, I can't put into words. I don't think I am in love with him, never was._

_I just don't think I ever admired and cared for one person like I did Erik. Well, maybe except for one." Marie laughed, "No offense, Al ,but you are __literally __the last person I thought I would open up too."_

"_Hey, no offense taken. It's not like you and I are the best of friends."_

_Al laughed with her and then became solemn._

_Marie noticed his sudden change in expression and said, "What do you say you and I work on that, Calavicci?"_

"_Sounds good, __Barracuda__."_

"_You do realize I am still going to bust your chops."_

"_I expect nothing less," replied Al._

_Al stood up and Marie joined him as he walked toward the door. __Al suddenly turned his head and looked toward her computer. He smirked._

"_I should have known you would be listening to this. After all, this is __the_ Erik Dubois."

"What has you so amused, Admiral?"

"Felder, are you telling me you haven't figured it out?"

"Al, quit with the the jokes and just tell me what you are talking about."

"Marie, maybe you should sit down."

"Al, cut the crap."

"All right, Oh Mighty Barracuda. The famous composer, Erik Dubois, was once known as Erik De Chagney."

**Present Day-Jason's Office**

"Jason, baby stick with me and you will be on every major talk show,"

Jason rubbed his temples, his patience wearing thin with his publisher. She was supposed to be the best in her field, but they butted heads more often than rams did. He often asked himself why he was still with her. _With her_ meaning on a professional basis, if he was with her on any other basis he would shoot himself.

"Mitzy, what's our next move?"

She strolled up to his desk and perched her generous hip on the side of his desk, giving him a flirty smile. He tried to smile back but it came out a grimace as he pulled wrinkled papers out from underneath her.

"Well, I was thinking Regis and Kelly, after that, Oprah."

Mitzy moved slightly, exposing her generous cleavage and legs. Her red blouse was a size too small and her skirt left little to the imagination. His buddies used to tease him by calling him the Beav or tried to insinuate he was gay because of his modest taste in women. Hey, he liked boobs and legs as much as the next guy. He just preferred more be left to the imagination, so he could be pleasantly surprised later. _Oh yeah, back to Oprah._

Jason stood up and walked away from his desk. He avoided rolling his eyes at the obviously over sexed woman.

"Well, Mitzy, if you're going to dream you may as well dream big."

Mitzy stood and approached him and said, "I like my men the way I like my dreams; dark, big, and strong."

She squeezed his bicep and Jason had to disguise his laugh with a cough.

He backed up and said, " And I like my publishers the way I like my patients; open, comfortable," he said in a husky voice, " and very professional."

He smirked and removed her hand from his arm. He walked back to his desk and sat down, even from there he could feel her fuming. Mitzy wouldn't dare reveal her anger which would only humiliate her, so she walked back to her chair and sat down.

"Jason, what we need to do is appeal to a larger audience. Now, my first suggestion is to mention your terribly poor family. Then we could mention the fact that you had to work nights when you had a full class load in college. Your limited income caused you to grow fatigued and gaunt from the lack of food."

"Woe, woe, woe. Hold up. First off, I was never poor, I grew up in an upper middle class family; with a Mom who was an opera singer and a Dad who was a fairly successful author. I went to college on scholarship and spent my folks' hard earned money on weekend frat parties. I was probably fatigued from the weekend partying, and I was as gaunt as a guy who could eat a whole pizza by himself."

"Jason, baby don't you see, we need to stretch the truth a little in order to succeed."

Jason used to love English accents, but now he cringed everytime he heard Mitzy's.

"Stretch the truth? You just created an entirely different person. Strangers are not the only ones who will read this book; my family, friends, and patients will as well. Can you get this through your hard head, Mitzy? Even if I did decide to go through with this ridiculous scheme, my lies wouldn't take long to be revealed."

Jason saw his hands were shaking, he knew he was losing his temper. This topped her request for him to wear tighter jeans to appeal to the ladies. In his calmest voice possible he said, "Mitzy, this is not working out. We view business differently. I'm afraid I'm going to have to fire you."

Mitzy's eyes looked stunned, as if she didn't see that was coming. She shifted in her chair and opened her irritating mouth and spoke in her irritating accent.

"Oh, so I guess the tighter jeans are out."

He gave Mitzy a deadly look and pointed to the door, afraid to speak because he didn't know what he would do.

She stood up and walked to the door and stopped directly in front of it. As if reading her mind he said, "I will send you your check in the mail."

"What happened to direct deposit?"

When Mitzy saw his jaw tense she didn't wait for an answer, she quickly escaped out the door.

Jason heard his computer chime with a new email message, but he ignored it. He didn't want to worry about getting a new publisher. What he wanted to do was go home, swig down a beer and call it a day. He opened his desk drawer to search for his blackberry. His hand made contact with a picture frame and he lifted it out. It was a picture of Marie and him at San Diego beach. They had been dating nearly a year at that point, before things had gotten complicated between them. Complications, that was putting it mildly. It got to a point that Marie had buried herself in work, she stopped making him a priority. Jason was not some needy man either, he liked alone time as well.

Marie gave _some alone time _a new definition. They only saw each other once every couple of weeks, cutting there time together in half from before. Conversation between them had gotten purely superficial.

He now admits it was partly his fault. He was too stubborn and proud to talk to her about it. Instead of sitting down with her and talking about their problems, he burned inside. He became quite self centered and moody. It got to the point that whenever they spoke to each other it turned into an argument. Things that never bothered him before started to. Marie's job was funded by the government and he always understood why she had to be secretive about her job. He understood patient confidentiality, he could certainly understand the need for government security, yet that had suddenly become an issue in their relationship.

He remembered the day they parted ways, the day of their last fight. Marie had been so cold and rigid, like their relationship had been professional rather than romantic. He, of course had been angry, it had taken all his strength to walk away instead of throwing things. It had been for the best, he supposed. They were too different, yet too much alike. Oh, how he had loved her, how much he still loved her. He jumped when the phone intercom switched on.

" Doctor O'Connor, someone is here to see you."

"Paula, I thought you kept my schedule free of patients this afternoon?"

"It's not a patient, Sir. Doctor Marie Felder is here to see you."

"Paula, really I've changed my mind. I don't need to see him."

"Doctor Felder, I have already told him you are here. Go on in, Doctor O'Connor is waiting for you."

"Right." _Damn woman, a receptionist who actually announces a visitor. What kind of work ethic is that?_

Despite her nervousness Marie smirked at herself, wondering when she started making jokes to herself. She also wondered what made her drive here rather than home. Well, she knew. She knew exactly what she was doing the moment she entered her car. She knocked on his door softly.

"Come in."

She opened the door. There he stood before her in a charcoal gray suit, emphasizing his lanky height. He wore a dark blue tie that made his blue eyes stand out even more. His dark brown hair lay loose and natural. His smile drew her attention to his mouth.

_Okay Felder, stop!_

She closed the door and stood before him like a mindless idiot. Her knowledge of vocabulary went right out the window the moment she locked eyes with him. Jason broke the silence.

"Knocking, kind of formal isn't it."

"I think polite is a more accurate adjective."

"Since when are you…."

He trailed off, lightening the mood with his signature smile. Cutting her off before her mouthy comeback, he motioned to the seat across from him; she complied with his silent request. Marie started to play with her fingers, thinking up an excuse.

"So, what brings you to my corner of the world?"

"Um, I needed to borrow a pen." _What the hell? I have a __PhD__for God's sake, and that was the best I could come up with?_

She quickly grabbed the pen and stood up, muttered a thank you and stood to leave.

"Felder, that's not an ink pen, it's a pen light."

"Oh, well I need one of those too."

Marie got to the door knob when he stopped her. He grabbed her arm gently and turned her toward him. He had his signature smile on that gorgeous face of his.

"Oh, Marie, it wasn't that long ago that you could always make me laugh. So often you were funny without meaning to be. That was one of your gifts, Marie."

"Well, it wasn't so long ago that I loved to hear you laugh." She stared into his eyes, her face warming at his loving glance. The feeling didn't last long, however.

"Oh, Marie. If you only knew how special you were we might still be together."

The warm fuzzy feeling disappeared from Marie and anger replaced it. She stepped away from his arms and her eyes blazed at him.

"What?! You're saying it was my insecurities that broke us up? What about yours, Jason?" You think you were a prize. Whenever I tried to talk, you were looking for a fight. I felt like I had to be on guard at all times!"

Marie's voice had risen to a yell. She knew that Paula might be hearing them, but she just didn't care. Apparently, neither did Jason. His voice volume had risen to match hers.

"Talk! Yeah, about the weather and your neighbor's cat! What?!

Paula peeked her head in the door, with a weary expression on her face.

"Sir, everything is finished and the files are organized for Monday. May I go home now."

Feeling bad for snapping at his receptionist he replied gently, "Of course you may go home, Paula. Don't forget to clock out."

"Of course, Doctor O'Connor. Have a good weekend. Doctor Felder."

"Goodbye, Paula," Marie replied politely.

The moment Paula left all sugar and spice vanished from the two Psychiatrists. Marie beat him to it.

"Well, my neighbor's cat became far more interesting than you!"

"That was the problem, everything became more interesting than me! "

He couldn't hide the hurt in his voice anymore than she could her shock. He turned away from her and sat down behind his desk. He put his hand to his chin, probably to hide his vulnerability. Marie walked to the other seat and literally fell into it. They were silent for several moments when Marie broke it.

Quietly she asked, "Why didn't you tell me I was hurting you?"

"Pride and stubbornness can serve a person well, sometimes it can be the death of you."

"And I didn't let you in, because I was afraid of you."

They stared at each other silently. It looked like Jason was going to say something more, when they heard a noise from his computer. He turned toward his screen. Jason, looking confused, clicked his mouse. Marie was just about to get angry again for interrupting their conversation for an email when he turned to her.

"Marie, I just got an urgent email from my cousin in London. It's for you."

**Another Author's Note: I am going on vacation soon for about a month. I am going to try to finish this story before I leave. I have a lot to do before then, so I may not. ****But if I don't, I will try to work on it while I'm gone and post it by late March, early April. Thanks guys!**


	27. The Phantom's Legacy

**The Phantom****'s Legacy**

**Author's Note: Okay, I made it. I tried to post this chapter before I left, but the site was down, urgh. So, I had to use my aunt's computer. Anyway l thought I would be able to finish the story with one chapter, but that didn't happen. I still have one chapter left to write and it will be an awesome ending. I hope to be able to write while I'm here, but I may not get a chance; you can expect it by April though. Thanks guys! Enjoy.**

"I can't believe I let you talk me into letting you come with me."

"What do you mean, let? She's my cousin. I have every right to come along."

This was the argument going on between Marie and Jason on the plane to London, England.

They had been in the air for nearly five hours and patience was wearing thin between the couple, err, ex couple.

"Yeah, but the email was meant for me, meaning not you."

"Well, it was sent to my email address, meaning not yours."

The flight attendant walked by with the beverage cart and asked them if they would like anything to drink.

"Do you have anything that will put him to sleep for the rest of the flight?" Marie asked, pointing in Jason's direction.

"All I need is a roll of duck tape, Miss," Jason interjected, glaring at Marie.

The pretty flight attendant smiled nervously and moved ahead quickly.

"Jason, I find it interesting that you failed to mention that you had relatives with the last name Dubois. Amazingly they are related to the Composer, Erik Dubois; who happens to be my favorite composer. Wait a minute, if your relatives are related to Dubois, I guess that would mean you too are a descendent of his. Funny, I don't remember you mentioning that, either."

"We all have secrets Felder, speaking of which, what does my cousin want with you? In fact, judging from her email, she seemed awfully excited to meet with a person she has never met."

Marie instantly wished she had bitten her mouthy tongue. It wasn't so long ago she felt peaceful and serene, now she felt horribly on edge. The moment she read the email from Meg Dubois she was not only excited, but very anxious.

"Fair enough, Jason. I guess we're even."

With a smile that was half satisfaction, half irritation, he turned from her lay his head against a pillow.

_Now he decides to fall asleep._

Marie shook her head and pulled out the printed email. She read it again, as if committing it to memory.

_**Dear Jason,**_

_**I need you to deliver this message to Marie Felder, this is urgent. I need her to come see me in **__**London**__** as soon as possible. This is not an emergency, but it's very important. It's regarding the Dubois history, and it concerns your girlfriend. You know my address and phone number, so if you could give it to her I would appreciate it. You don't have to tell her the details about why I want her here, she will find out soon enough. Have her call me when she gets to London, we will be ready for her.**_

_**Your Cousin,**_

_**Meg**_

_Girlfriend__, she's a little behind., _Marie thought to herself. Marie was fairly certain the message involved Erik, but the email was very vague. When Jason asked what Meg wanted her for, Marie wasn't hiding the truth with her silent response. She was as much in the dark as Jason was. She looked in his direction, watching him sleep. It is true what they say, when a person sleeps they look so young and innocent.

Marie didn't want to think about the emotions that were running through her at that moment. She still was in love with Jason, that much was clear, but she couldn't think about that now.

Too much was going on, and she had to remain as coherent as possible. She reached for her pillow and with one last look at Jason, laid her head down. She didn't fall asleep until the sun was beginning to hit the horizon.

* * *

Marie awoke to a loud buzzing. She picked up the offending object, the telephone, and shoved it toward her ear.

"This is your wake up call."

Marie responded with a moan and hung up the phone. It was seven o'clock in the morning and it felt like two.

She and Jason had landed in England around three p.m. the day before. They had dinner in the hotel and went to their own rooms to get some long needed sleep. They had agreed to meet in the lobby at eight in the morning for breakfast and from there go straight to Meg's home. Marie half walked, half crawled to the shower. The hot water eased her tense muscles and cleared the grogginess. An hour later she was dressed, her hair was done, and her makeup was on. She probably would have been done sooner had she not tried on three different outfits. A person would think she was meeting her future in-laws or something.

She took the stairs down to the lobby and spotted Jason. The man looked like he stepped out of GQ, after traveling eleven hours and sleeping in a _hotel_ room. A smile that was surprisingly unforced spread on Marie's face. Jason returned it warmly.

"You look great, Felder. Trying to impress someone?"

"I could ask the same about you?"

She looked him up and down, trying to keep her appraisal subtle. She saw him smirk and realized he had noticed despite her cautiousness. When she saw him checking her out in the same fashion, she felt herself blush. _Damn it, he always has that affect on me._

"Shall we?" Jason turned toward the dining room and held out his hand to Marie.

Marie hesitated and then looked into his eyes. They startled her, for the expression in them reminded her so much of Erik. She breathed out and accepted the hand offered to her.

* * *

Marie's legs were bouncing up in down in the cab, causing the floor to vibrate. Jason reached out and put a hand on her knee to stop her nervous jittering.

"Marie, relax. My family aren't going to eat you alive. I'm more worried for them, actually."

"Ha ha. A comedian's in the house."

Jason smiled sardonically at her and took her hand, caressing it to sooth her nerves. Marie felt oddly comforted by the simple and affectionate gesture. The cab came to a stop in front of a large, older home; one that looked like it was from the late nineteenth century. Jason slid out of the cab and stood next to the open door.

_Oh, he's waiting for me._

Marie felt like her body was nailed to the seat. She strengthened her will and stepped out of the taxi. At this point Jason had stretched his arm through the front passenger window and paid the cab driver.

"Jason…"

Before she could finish her sentence he said, "Marie, it's fine. You can pay for the one on the way back."

Marie's irritation rose and escaped out her mouth.

"Do you always have to do that, Jason?"

At this point the cab driver had left them, getting out from the line of fire.

"Do what?"

"Answer me before I can even get my sentence out. Do you know how irritating that is?"

"Oh, I have an idea."

"Well, if it isn't little Jason O'Connor," a voice interrupted.

Marie turned to the voice and saw a pretty woman attached to it. She looked to be in her early forties. She had dark brown hair like Jason. She had bright blue eyes and a long, though not exceptionally large, nose. She was tall and lean, emaphasized by gray, fitted slacks and red tunic. She possessed an air of intelligence and good humor; Marie liked her immediately.

Jason walked up the stone steps and hugged their hostess. His six foot three inch frame dwarfed even the tall woman in front of them. They pulled away from each other and she looked him up and down like an artist would a sculpture.

"Well, I guess not so little anymore. How are you?"

"Great. My book is being published this Spring."

"Oh, so your a big shot now, huh."

Jason replied, "You should talk, what is your play production on now, it's second year?"

Meg smiled up at her cousin and said, "You look great, J. I always knew you would make something of yourself."

"Ditto, Meg."

By this time, Marie was swaying her body back and forth, a habit she thought she had lost long ago. Meg finally looked in her direction and Marie could have sworn she saw awe fill her eyes. She made her way down the steps and stopped in front of Marie.

"You must be Marie Felder. It's an honor, Doctor."

Meg stretched out her hand and Marie shook it. The former had a firm yet warm grip, something the Doctor didn't fail to notice.

"Jason, Richard's inside. He's anxious to see you."

Meg saw Marie's silent question and said, "Richard's my husband, we've been married for fifteen years now."

Meg grabbed Marie's arm and directed her to the front door. Once inside, she steered her toward the living room. Jason was sitting across from who had to be Meg's husband. The latter stood up at their entrance and strode over to them. Meg began the introductions.

"Richard, I would like you to meet Marie Felder. Marie, this is my husband, Richard Davis."

Marie looked up at him, another tall person. Why didn't she wear her four inch heels. She was beginning to understand how the munchkins felt. She held out her hand and shook his. Meg had done a good job choosing this one. Light brown hair, brown eyes, and from what she could tell, very well built. Right up there with Jason.

"It's nice to meet you, Marie."

"Likewise. Um, excuse me, but, I thought your last name was Dubois."

"Oh, it is," Meg answered. "Dubois is my maiden name, I kept it for business purposes. I write and direct plays. Jason, it's nice to know you talk so much about us."

"Well, Meg," Jason answered, "knowing how much you enjoy conversation, I wanted to give you the honor of talking about yourself.

Meg shook her head and smiled. She said, "You can probably tell Jason and I have known each other since we were young. From the time he was six and I was thirteen he and his family came to visit every summer, in this house actually. Little J definitely liked getting into mischief."

"And big Meg always liked sneaking out at all hours of the night. I seem to remember by the end of our vacation, I had so much bribery money I probably could have retired by now."

"You make up stories, Jason," Meg replied.

Richard laughed and said, "Honey, you could have made a career out of bribery."

Meg laughed, "You guys are desperate for story material."

Marie's mind was whirling so much, she was having a hard time keeping up with the conversation.

"Meg, did you say that it was in this house you grew up."

"Yes, in fact this house has been in the family for six generations including our children, Philip and Elizabeth."

"This was his home, wasn't it."

Marie's statement was quiet and yet profoundly booming.

Meg grabbed Marie's hand and pulled her to the couch. Marie sat down as Meg went to some shelving and grabbed a photo album off of them. She returned and sat down next to her. Jason and Richard sat across from them.

"Yes, Marie. This house belonged to our Great, Great Grandfather, Erik Dubois."

"Marie, can I get anything for you? Would you like something to drink?"

"No….thank you. What did you want to show me, Meg?"

"Well, I thought you might like to see some pictures of our family?"

What Marie wanted to do was cut to the chase so she could go home and stop wondering, but she thought it best to wait out the reveal. Marie nodded in agreement and Meg opened the album.

"These are my children. Liz is twelve and Phil is ten." She turned the page and continued, "This is the family photo that was taken at our wedding."

"Oh, my God, Jason you look so young and well…skinny."

Jason glared at Marie as the rest of the group laughed. Marie turned her attention to the picture and Meg continued.

"The woman to the left as you know, is Jason's Mom, Christine. She is my Father's sister, the man you see to the left of me. His name is Andrew…"

She continued to point out her brother, James, who was now in Paris working as a Private Investigator. Her sister, Renee, who was an opera singer, lived in New York. Then, Marie came to know of Meg's nephews and nieces as well as Richard's. By the time they were nearing the end of the album and consequently, the family tree, Marie was about ready to pull her hair out. Meg was more attuned to her distress than Marie realized.

Meg's hand was poised above the last couple of pages and said, "Marie, I know what you came here for. Now your curiosity will be satisfied."

She turned the page and Marie's breath caught in her throat. It was a very old picture, it had to have been over one hundred years old. The sides were dog eared and the photo was slightly grainy, but it was perfect.

"Marie, I would like to introduce you to the Erik Dubois family."

Marie's eyes narrowed in on the tall man to the far left of the photo. His face was partly in shadow, but it was still clear. It was horribly deformed and put to shame Hollywood's most notorious monsters. The man was beautiful. To smile was not the custom in photos back then, but his eyes clearly were. They were intense and intelligent. They sparkled with humor and joy. Those beautiful eyes no doubt belonged to Erik De Chagney.

The woman next to him must have been Christine Daae. She was beautiful with dark eyes and curly brown hair. There was no doubt she was as beautiful on the inside. Her eyes came across a blonde woman standing to the right on another tall man. He had light hair and despite his flawless skin, looked much like his older brother. This man had to be Philippe De Chagney, standing next to his wife, Meg Giry. Another beautiful woman who seemed quite content.

To the right of her must have been Raoul. He was a good looking man, who stood next to a fair skinned woman, most likely his wife. Raoul had a good life from what Al told her, but there was a sadness in his eyes.

She eyed the children next. It looked to her that Erik and Christine had two boys and one girl. Not one of them inherited their Father's misfortune. It looked Philipe and Meg had three also, two girls and a boy. Even Raoul and his wife looked to have a son. Then, Marie noticed a woman who surprised her. She was beautiful and for some reason reminded her of Erik.

Marie spoke, "You don't have to tell me who these people are. I know."

She looked at Jason, his eyes curious and his expression warm.

"Though," she continued, "I don't know who this woman is."

Meg looked at the woman standing above Erik and smiled, "Jason, you haven't said a word." She handed him the album and said, "Why don't you do the honors and tell Marie who the woman is."

Jason sighed and said, "Marie, that woman is none other then our Great, Great, Great Grandmother. Or otherwise known as, Erik's Mother, Eve."

* * *

As Marie climbed the stairs to the second floor she tried to process all she had seen. After they had looked at the photo album, Marie was shown around the house. The various paintings and sketches amazed Marie. She came to find out that Erik had designed and built the Dubois home himself. Everywhere she turned she saw Erik; in the design, intelligence, and beauty of her surroundings. When she had seen the music room, she felt the power and love that had filled it for the past hundred years. So, a person could see why her mind was spinning.

Marie snapped out of her musings when she heard Meg's voice.

"Marie, Grandfather is looking so forward to meeting you. He's Erik's grandson. He will be able to tell you all you want to know."

Marie looked at Jason behind her. He raised an eyebrow at her, but said nothing. They reached the top of the stairs and walked down a long hallway. Meg opened the last door on the right. The group followed her in and Marie stopped when she saw the man before her. He stood, his cane supporting him. He looked to be around ninety, but seemed remarkably healthy. His hair was silver and thinning. His skin was wrinkled but his eyes were young and vibrant. He had Erik's eyes. In fact, he even had Erik's height and build. This man had to have been gorgeous when he was young. Marie wondered if this is what Erik would have looked like without his malady.

The man got up from his chair and approached Jason.

"It's good to see you, kiddo."

The man hugged Jason and stepped back to take a good look at him.

"It's good to see you too, Grandpa. I have so much to tell you."

"No doubt." He paused and looked at Marie and said to her," This is the poster child for over achievers."

He approached her with a smile and took her hand.

"Marie Felder, I can't tell you how long I have looked forward to this day."

"Um, thank you. It's nice to meet you Mister Dubois."

"Please, call me Erik."

He kissed her hand and Marie felt like she was in a nineteen thirties film, not an unpleasant feeling at all.

Marie heard Meg's voice say, "Jason, the kids just got home and they want to see you. Why don't we leave Grandfather and Marie alone to talk."

"Well, that's fine, Meg, but does Marie feel comfortable with that."

He looked her direction, his expression protective and curious as usual.

"Since when do you speak in the third person, Jason. Go, you've done enough Marie sitting for the morning."

"Marie," Jason said, stopping at her name.

"Jason," Marie smiled warmly at him, "I'll be fine. Please, go see your cousins."

Jason sighed and followed Meg and Richard to the door. He turned at the last moment and looked at Marie and then at his grandfather. The two exchanged looks and Erik smiled at him encouragingly. Jason gave a slight smile back and closed the door.

Marie looked at Erik and saw he was motioning her to sit. She chose a the sofa and sat down. Erik strode over to a chair and did the same. He looked at Marie with a joyful glint in his eyes. There was silence for a few agonizing seconds and then the man before her spoke.

"Marie, I am about to tell you something that will affect you greatly. Are you ready?"

_No. _"Yes, of course."

Erik saw her hesitancy and then her sudden change to excitement. Her body straightened, her eyes were at attention. He smiled and said, "My Grandfather was right, you do like a good story."


	28. Think Of Me Fondly

**Think of Me Fondly**

**Author's Note: Wow, I am finally finished after two years of writing this story. I must tell you this story has meant a lot to me, and I hope it did you. Thank you for all your support and comments. It means a lot that you stayed through the long hull. Anyway, I would love your comments on the story as a whole. Anyway, enjoy and see you around .**

"What?"

Marie looked across at the man who called himself Erik. He was nodding his head in an assured manner wore a smirk identical to that of his Grandfather.

"I don't know what you mean," Marie finished.

"I think you do, Doctor Felder. You are not the only one with secrets."

Erik stood up and walked toward what looked to be a closet. He opened it and rummaged at the shoes on the floor. When he had cleared them he lined his fingers around the floorboard. He pulled at it and it a section came loose. He grabbed an item from within it and lined everything back up. He stood up, shut the door and walked to his seat.

Marie peered curiously at him. She saw what looked like a letter with an old fashioned seal on it. Erik held it in his hands, smoothing out any creases.

"My grandfather was a wonderful man. He was a genius; an architect, composer, even a magician. He did not have a good childhood and much of his adulthood was ridden with anger and suspicion. Erik Dubois did not trust anyone; his mangled features became a part of his soul. He was once known as the Phantom of the Opera, he left it as Erik De Chagney. He left a changed man."

Marie played her poker face as she listened. She didn't know what game this man was playing, but she wasn't about to forfeit.

"Erik left his past and Paris behind him and went to London. He was eventually called back to Paris to accept his title as the Count De Chagney, but he refused it. His reason was he had started a new life and didn't want his title to hold him back. At this time he had begun composing and designing houses. He adopted the last name Dubois and used it as his stage name, so to speak. He ran into Christine Daae a few years later and she starred in one of his operas. They fell in love again and got married. They had three children, two boys and a girl named, Damon, Alexander, and Marie."

He paused there, looking at Marie knowingly. Marie held her steady expression as he continued.

"About twenty years after Erik left the Opera Populair a man by the name of Gaston Leroux contacted my grandfather. He had been a lawyer turned author at the time. He said he knew about the Phantom of the Opera and would like to meet with him. My Grandfather, according to my grandmother, approached his guest with his famous lasso. He may have been a changed man, but my grandfather wasn't stupid. The man was very pleasant and honest and Erik liked him instantly.

As far as how Leroux knew my grandfather was the Phantom I cannot say, but he knew nevertheless. Leroux asked him if he could write his story, protecting his identity was his main concern. My grandfather agreed, but he had to make a few changes in it. First, that he never performed his masterpiece. Second, the Phantom never escaped, nor saw Christine again. Thirdly, and most important, he died alone. You see, Erik figured that with these changes he would be less likely linked the Leroux's character. He also requested that Leroux call his book fiction and keep the secret of his identity to himself. Apparently, that's what he did, though on his death bed he did admit the Opera Ghost existed, but the witnesses thought he was just delirious.

"What of Andrew Lloyd Webber's play? His storyline sounds more accurate with some details than Leroux's," Marie interjected.

"Well, I would tell you Marie, but then I would have to kill you. Anyway, Erik lived till he was ninety five years old and got to hold his great grandchild in his arms. He lived a full life and a happy one, thanks to his friends, past and _future_. He thought of you as one of his best friends, Marie."

"Mister Dubois, I really have no idea what you're talking about. How would your grandfather know me, he died years before I was born. You were right, though, I do enjoy a good story. That was very entertaining, but don't you think we should find the others now."

She stood to leave and felt herself being pushed firmly but gently back in the seat.

Erik looked down at her and said, "I'm not trying to expose whatever secret project you are protecting, Marie. I don't need to know the details, nor do I care too. I just wanted to meet the woman who affected my Grandfather so."

Marie looked up into his eyes. They sparkled with urgency and humor, honesty was held within them. Marie wanted to believe him, but she was struggling. Marie was under the impression that anyone who leaped back didn't remember anything of their experience. She stood up and faced him; pulling at her pant suit and smoothing her hair. She still hadn't lost her nervous habits.

"Erik, I want to believe, I really do. It's just so out there."

"Marie, you have to put yourself in my position. I was told about you when your grandmother was in diapers. This is unbelievable to me too, but here we are."

Erik sighed when he saw the doubt that was still on her face and said, "I can prove it to you."

Marie stepped back as he leaned forward. His hand touched her cheek as he pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. He pulled back almost immediately. Marie, looked at him in shock, it was probably the only thing keeping her from slapping him.

"Don't look at me like I'm a pervert. You probably have given your parents more passionate kisses. Look that was a message from Erik. He never forgot that kiss you shared. Despite the deep love he had for Grandmother, he felt that you were something pretty special. In fact, you know the piece, "**Marie**" that he wrote?"

"Of course, he is my favorite composer, he wrote it for his daughter."

Erik shook his head and said, "That is a normal misconception. The fact is he wrote that song a whole year before Marie was born."

Marie's eyes watered as what he said sunk in. The man before her smiled and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

"You, little one, are a part of the reason I am here today. The Dubois family thanks you with all our hearts. My Grandfather even said that you were a part of a small whole that saved him."

Marie wiped the stray tears at her cheeks and said, "The fact is Mister Dubois, he saved me long before I saved him. When I was a child and I was hurt by my father's actions; I would go to my room and shut out the world. I would fall asleep listening to Erik's music. I never felt more at peace than when I listed to the beautiful, melodious sounds. I can't say it was a cure all, but it was definitely a secure bandage."

She continued, "I am so honored that I am a part of such a beautiful gift to the world. Knowing that he remembered me means more to me than you can ever know."

"Oh, I understand perfectly. My grandfather had that kind of impact on people, about as much impact as the people in his life had on him. Oh, he also wanted to send his thanks to a Sam Beckett and regards to an Albert Calavicci, whoever that is."

Marie laughed as her happiness swelled. The world didn't seem as scary, somehow.

Erik joined her and then just as suddenly became somber. He stretched out his hand and gave her the letter. She turned it around so that the seal was facing away from her. In beautiful scroll was her name on the outside of the envelope. Marie's eyes widened and she looked up at her companion.

"This is from him isn't it?"

Erik nodded and once again the smile returned to his face.

"He asked me to keep it safe until the year twenty o nine. I guarded it like it was a treasure. I promise I have no idea as to its contents."

Marie took his hand in both of hers.

"Thank you."

She said nothing else; she didn't have to, those words alone were enough. Then something occurred to her.

"Erik, how did you know exactly when to find me?"

"You know, I asked my grandfather the same question. You know what he told me?"

"Let me guess," Marie replied, "don't annoy me with bothersome questions, Junior."

He laughed and said, "Oh, you definitely knew Erik Dubois. No, he said you will know when the time is right. Well, when Jason called me and said that he missed you, I thought it was the perfect time."

Marie raised an eyebrow at the old man suspiciously.

"Well, if I am to be your grandfather in law I may as well start meddling now. Promise me that I will see more great grandchildren before I die."

Marie's expression hadn't changed since he had mentioned Jason.

"Erik, you will have to talk to Meg about that, because I can't help you."

Erik stepped back and looked at her disapprovingly.

"Marie, are you falling back into old habits again. Don't shut out your feelings with your hard shell."

Marie sighed and nearly glared at the man before her. Apparently the Dubois men tested her patience.

"Who's the psychiatrist Doctor Dubois, you are me," Marie said.

The only response she got was an irritating smirk; even more irritating was that he was right. She stepped away from him and walked toward the window. She looked out at the large backyard; her eyes were drawn to the red, rose bush. She observed the lush petals and the long stems. Despite all its thorns, it truly was beautiful. She turned around and said…

"We are so far away from where we were, Erik. Will Jason and I ever find are way back?"

Erik made his way over to the window and looked where Marie had been gazing. His deep voice interrupted the silence.

"You know, my wife loved her rose garden. It was like a love affair with her. She would lovingly water it, fertilize it, I even caught her talking to them once."

He laughed at the memory then his eyes became sad. He had loved his wife as strongly as his grandfather had loved his.

"Those roses only came second to her family and friends. She was determined for them to live long healthy lives. Marie, what if I were to tell you my wife stopped caring for them if one of the thorns pricked her?"

"I would say she was never promised a rose garden."

He frowned at her obvious jab. She lowered her eyes; she really had to work on her sarcasm.

She sighed and said, "I would say that action would be ridiculous."

"Marie, so you two may have had a few thorns in your relationship. Does that mean you should just give up and stop nourishing it? If you take care of it you will learn to accept the thorns and endeavor to avoid touching them. You get my drift?"

"What is it with the Dubois men and analogies? Do you stay up half the night making these things up?"

Erik laughed and smoothed her hair. Marie couldn't help but be touched by the affectionate regard.

"Erik, do you really think we can be as happy as the Dubois family has been?"

"Well hon, I have faith in both of you. I have no doubt my grandfather believed in you, time to believe in yourself, Kiddo."

Marie looked down at the letter she had been holding and then looked up at him.

"I know that letter is private, Marie. You can open it in your own time."

She hugged him and then heard a knock at the door. Marie stuffed the letter in her pocket as her new friend called for the person to come in. Marie stepped toward the door and smiled at the man who entered it, the man she loved. Her eyes never left his as his cousins trooped in behind him. Jason stared at her for a moment longer, their audience getting restless.

"It certainly took you long enough, Marie," he said, smiling from ear to ear.

"What do you mean, O'Connor? I've been waiting for you."

* * *

Marie and Jason sat down on the stone steps outside the Opera Populair. Their feet ached and their bodies were beat. After spending the night at the Dubois house as the family had insisted upon, the couple decided to take a trip to Paris. They had just walked the entire structure. They even saw the underground lake. Marie felt that Erik's presence had never entirely left.

Jason was not so much in the dark about her experience anymore. She didn't tell him about Project Quantum Leap, or the circumstances surrounding her experience with Erik. She did tell him that she had met Erik through time travel though, and that they had affected each other's lives. He nodded and hadn't said much. Oddly, he had been pretty quiet the entire day. The only time he spoke was to comment on the Paris residents or the structure and art of the Opera Populair. Marie had been so distracted herself she hadn't noticed until now.

"So, will you come back with me to see my family? They did invite us back after all."

Jason had finally spoken and Marie was determined to get him to open up.

"Well, that all depends. Are you planning to take me as a girlfriend or a patient?"

Jason smiled at her knowingly.

"Hmm, you seem to care what I think of you, now. That's promising."

Marie leaned her head back as if to convey that she was impatiently waiting.

"Look, Marie, you have always been so level headed, among other things. You may be neurotic at times but I would definitely say you are far from crazy."

He dodged her slap as he continued.

"This is just, so out there. I mean, you knew my great, great grandfather? He composed you a song? He really was the Phantom of the Opera? Grandfather always told us those stories but that doesn't mean there true."

Marie shook her head and pulled the letter from her purse.

"Your grandfather gave this to me. This has the original Erik Dubois' seal on it. It's addressed to me."

She flipped it to the other side and showed him the name scrolled on the back of it.

"I haven't read it, yet. It would mean a lot to me if we could read it together."

Jason's mouth had dropped open at the reveal of the letter. It opened and closed a couple of time before he just silently nodded. Marie broke the seal and opened it tenderly.

In Erik's glorious script it began:

**My Dearest Marie,**

**I know you believed that I would forget you. I promised you I wouldn't, so just know I was right and you were wrong.**

**The time we spent together is forever imprinted on my soul. You were the wings that brought me back to myself, whoever that was. You helped me see that it was acceptable to embrace myself, scars and all. You recall what I told you? Meg was my conscience, Christine was my angel, and you…. my friend. A friend who gave me my first kiss, which I thoroughly enjoyed, one who could relate to me in an odd way, one who often blurred the line between teacher and student. It is true, in learning you shall teach and in teaching you shall learn.**

**About thirty years ago, from my time at least, I composed something for you. I hope it means as much to you listening to it as I felt writing it. I miss you my friend and think of you often. Perhaps one day we will find each other again. I must depart, my grandson wishes to take Christine and I to the opera with his family, an opera that I created I might add.**

**Thank Samuel Beckett for his kindness and give my regards to Albert. Marie, I request a favor of you. You have such a wonderful heart, don't fight it. Remember when I told you not to end up like me; well I've changed my mind. The amount of joy and happiness I have experienced with my wife and family these past fifty years are as vast as the stars. I want the same for you. Love with all your heart, Marie. Once you find it, don't ever let go of it.**

**Your Old Friend,**

**O.G.**

**December 29, 1940**

Marie blinked back tears as she refolded the letter. Jason had been reading over her shoulder and now looked to be in a daze.

She wiped away the tears and suddenly laughed. "You know, despite the wonderful person he became, one thing never changed. He never stopped being an arrogant bastard."

"Wow, just wow." Jason stuttered as he came out of his daze.

"This will take me years to process," he continued.

"Maybe that's something we can do together," Marie replied.

He looked down at her with interest and kissed her temple; that apparently was the calm before the storm.

"He kissed you! You kissed my ancestor, that's just messed up. If he wasn't all ready dead I would kill him."

"If you did that, Jason, you wouldn't be here."

"Marie…"

Before he could continue, Marie pressed her lips to his. His mouth molded to hers as their lips caressed. Finally they pulled away, but only because Marie's phone began to ring. Jason looked annoyed and Marie looked apologetic as she answered it.

"Hello. Oh Nickie, it's so great to hear your voice. Oh, I'm sorry too, love; I didn't mean what I said either. What do you mean am I okay? Does there have to be something wrong in order for me to sound happy? Look, I would love to chat right now, but I'm going to have to call you back. You see, I'm making out with Jason. Bye, Sis."

She heard the shrieks of excitement coming from her sister as she hung up. She smiled as she and Jason got back to business.

"Oh, Erik."

Jason pulled away and looked at her in anger, which quickly faded when he saw the teasing expression in her eyes. He growled.

"Oh, you won't even remember his name when I get done with you."

He kissed her passionately and then briefly pulled away.

"Erik who," Marie replied.

She smiled and kissed him again. Erik Junior had been right; she didn't care about the thorns. All she cared about was the man in her arms. She would never forget the man formerly known as the Phantom of the Opera. He lived on in his work, his music, and his descendents; one of whom she was going to spend the rest of her life with.

_Yes, he is always there, inside all of our minds and hearts._


End file.
